


Some Kind of Fairytale

by treesfall



Series: Heroes and Thieves [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-04
Updated: 2010-09-04
Packaged: 2017-10-28 07:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treesfall/pseuds/treesfall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a kleptomaniac Luke steals the belongings of a dyslexic and ADD-riddled Percy, shit hits the metaphorical fan. Four Fridays, three (and a half?) Saturdays, two plates of brownies, and one stolen heart (literally) force them into an unconventional friendship (read: loving and adorable relationship). (Almost) Regular teenagers AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Kind of Fairytale

**Author's Note:**

> This is really just the first part of the entire universe. There'll probably be many more stories set in this universe in the future, if I ever get around to writing them. Originally written for the [PJO Big Bang](http://pjo-bigbang.livejournal.com/profile) at Livejournal.
> 
> LJ Masterpost is [here](http://gypsied.livejournal.com/9459.html).

Had Percy known what that particular early September day would hold, he couldn’t honestly say that he would’ve gotten out of bed as it was. At least the person he was back then wouldn’t have even pulled the pillow away from its position over his head, drowning out the sounds of the city buzzing to life in the morning, the birds chirping on the fire escape outside.

Although, the guy Percy is today knows that, without a doubt, he wouldn’t trade that day for anything, knowing what he knows now. Knowing just how important it was for both himself and Luke, his now best friend and constant companion, as they are practically attached at the hip voluntarily. 

It all started outside of Percy’s high-end private school, one he had been attending for three years straight after realizing that with age comes the ability to sense that trouble is about to brew. He is minding his own business, for once, changing the song playing on his mp3 player and squinting to try and make out the song title before the first measure began. He decides to wait patiently until the first few notes of the song so that he could identify it without struggling through the jumble of letters on the screen; he doesn’t want to waste all of his precious brain power before school even started, after all. It was likely to be a long day of ancient Latin for his language credit and Greek mythology for his literature credit and every other class that required written sentences and words and letters, which was every class, as it happened to be...

Sitting on the steps and basking in whatever sun the city had left to spare before the weather would continually decline, Percy checks his phone, looking the time and wondering why Grover is later than usual and didn’t leave a voicemail saying why. 

Sure, the kid has a slow pace of doing things—perpetually lackadaisically—that occasionally drove Percy nuts, but it shouldn’t be taking him this long to show up. 

Turning to grab his bag so that he could start walking to his first block class, sociology, he sees someone walking backwards slowly just out of his complete line of vision. The tattered sneakers moved so precariously, wary of making any sound or being noticed, that Percy had to satisfy his teenage curiosity. 

It‘s a boy, no, that’s a guy with a book in his hand, and the look on the face that is staring alarmedly back at him is one of guilt. Percy is sure that his messenger bag didn’t just open itself, and that definitely has to be his schoolbook given the dead sprint that he kid takes off with, around the corner of the front of the school. 

With a heavy sigh—and a thought of “why me?”—Percy starts running as swiftly as possible through the throngs of people crowding the steps and the sidewalk and considering the limited give that the school’s uniform slacks lend to a sprinter. 

All Percy wants is to get through the school day so that he has the entire weekend to look forward to, but obviously, the universe isn’t having that. It’s times like this that Percy genuinely considers the existence of gods who resided up in Olympus, throwing obstacles like these in his path for their own entertainment. 

After so many run-ins with the most unlikely things (because seriously, who lets a Great Dane in the Metropolitan Museum of Art? Don’t they have security for shit like that?), it would be expected that Percy could let these things slide. 

Wrong. 

Sure, he’d learned how to control the chaos to a point where he didn’t get kicked out of almost every private school in the state, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t occasionally game for a good morning run every once in a while. At least, there’s something to occupy him until first period in ten minutes since Grover apparently decided to skip without telling Percy first and inviting him along. Surely, whatever adventure Grover was off of—environmentally inspired or not—would be more entertaining than another day at school. 

Percy is practically pummeled to the ground as he runs right into the shoulder of a particularly tall businessman who doesn’t seem too happy that Percy has barreled past him, shoulders down so that they clear a path. “Shit, sorry,” Percy shouts behind him, not even turning to see if his hurried apology is accepted. 

He mutters a continual “fuck” under his breath, the word repeated over and over, until Percy realizes that it doesn’t have that flow to it—that the hard “k” sound attempts to battle the equally as strong “f” of the word. It’s once he realizes that the guy with the shaggy blonde hair is almost out of sight, and would be entirely escaping Percy’s eyes had it not been for his height, that Percy remembers he isn’t racing on the sidewalks of New York City for kicks. He’s chasing someone, and he needs to keep that in mind. Oh, the woes of attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, he thinks just before he kicks into overdrive, bursting with a new need to catch up. 

“The fuck is your problem?!” Percy demands, fisting the back of the stranger’s blazer in his hand firmly and tugging him back. As he was attempting to run away, he almost falls backward at the sudden strength and stumbles as he is shoved into a roofed alcove built into the school’s carefully designed structure where they are well out of the way of the busy city street.

“Watch it! I had to iron this blazer myself this morning, if you were not aware,” the kid says, smoothing the front and fixing his collar, “And, goddamn, you pack quite a punch for a little thing.” With the nerve of nobody else Percy has ever met, the stranger ruffles Percy’s already unruly black hair with an amused smirk. 

His hair may have been messy anyway, but the action displeases Percy as it is; he smacks his hand away and relishes in the taken-aback look on the taller, and likely older, boy’s face. 

“ _You_  should be one watching it since that’s  _my_  book you’re stealing, by the way. And chances are, I’m gonna need that, so if you could kindly give it back...” Percy makes a move to take the book from the other boy, but he snatches away before Percy can successfully acquire it, holding it high above his head with his long, lean arms. 

“I don’t think I can do that, kiddo,” he says, leaning back against the brick wall smugly. 

“Kiddo? Kiddo? I’m sixteen, damn it. How old are you? ‘Cause right now I could swear you’ve got the maturity level of a five year old.” Percy checks his watch, seeing that he’s already late for his first class. Today’s already shaping up to be a bad one. 

“Ease up, there. Like it really matters. I’m sure with a face like that you can bat your eyelashes and nobody will think twice about letting you have your way. Except for me that is, because you’re not getting your book back.”

“I don’t have time for this...,” Percy trails off, finally realizing that he doesn’t even know this guy’s name and yet he’s skipping class to have a conversation—if it could be called that—with him. 

And the upturn in the pitch of Percy’s voice does not go unnoticed by his companion, who responds with an answer to what the likely question is. “Luke Castellan, but you can call me God for short.”

By now, Percy wishes he hadn’t sworn off physical fights after that incident four years ago because smacking the smile off of Luke’s face would be Percy’s first choice at the moment. 

“Can I just have my...book back?” Percy asks with a resigned sigh, almost about to refer to it by the subject matter, but that’s when it hits him that he doesn’t know what book Luke even stole. 

Good thing Percy had worked out a system for this kind of thing happening, since the agitation is making it almost impossible to focus and command the letters to stop taunting him by dancing across the book cover. 

Black book...black books are for social things...black book is sociology. 

Percy realizes a second too late that he’s been muttering this aloud, under his breath. Although, it does succeed in wiping the grin off of Luke’s face. 

“I’ll give you your book back once you tell me what the hell that was,” he says, his eyebrows pulling together and momentarily letting his guard down so much so that Percy almost has an opportunity to grab his book from Luke’s clutches.  _Almost_.

Percy recoils, rocking back onto his heels and looking Luke directly in the eyes. All he sees is genuine curiosity, not some smart-ass comment about Percy’s inability to read during emotionally heightened situations. Of course, it only figures that Luke probably wouldn’t know about his dyslexia given the circumstances. 

“I, uh, well,” Percy stumbles. It’s not every day you tell a random stranger who stole your stuff that you’re dyslexic, right? Part of him is hoping that Luke can notice the uncomfortable topic before Percy has to blurt it out, but no such luck. Because by now, Luke is looking quite interested in the answer, mouth slightly open as if he’s about to encourage him to just spit it out, his eyebrows raised. 

“Fuck it, I’m dyslexic, and you stealing my book and making me chase you doesn’t exactly help my stress levels or my ability to concentrate, okay?” Percy states, hoping that it’s enough to shock Luke into giving up his book so that he can make a quick break for it. 

However, as if it isn’t clear enough already, it is not Percy’s day. 

Luke makes a non-committal noise in the back of his throat, acknowledging this new information, but instead of handing over Percy’s sociology book, he crosses his arms cockily, that godforsaken smirk returning to his lips. 

“Well, if you can’t read as it is, then this book is of no use to you.” 

Percy exhales slowly, closing his eyes tightly and pushing the urge to fight Luke down inside of him. “You know that part of this conversation when I’m gonna have to punch three or four times, maybe add in a cheap-shot knee to the groin? Yeah, we’re approaching that part really fast now.”

Luke’s smirk spreads to a smile, framing his teeth quite nicely for the first time, not that the smirk did nothing for Luke either. It just pisses Percy off at the current moment, that’s all. “You know, it’s a shame that I’m gonna have to end this conversation now then. I mean, I was going to be late to first period as it was anyway, but then I guess I got a bit sidetracked...”

“Sidetracked? This is what you call sidetracked?!” Percy asks, attempting for the umpteenth time to recover his book from Luke. “And I kind of need that book for my first period class, which you’ve made me quite late for.”

“Hm, well, my sincerest apologies,” Luke mutters, pushing his way around Percy and heading leisurely to the front of the school. “Oh, and I don’t believe I got your name.”

Percy doesn’t honestly know what possesses him to tell Luke his name, but it’s probably resignation. The way he sees it, if Luke can manage to cause this much trouble in ten minutes, there’s no doubt in Percy’s mind that he could find out his name on his own terms, and probably not the best ones either. 

“It’s Percy.”

Luke smiles, walking backward now to maintain eye contact, “Well, Percy—can I call you Perce?—I think we’ll get along just fine. I’ll be seeing you around.” Without waiting for an answer to Luke’s almost-question, he pivots mid-step, taking long strides. And that’s when two things dawn on Percy.

The first thing: Luke’s still got his sociology book tucked under one arm, leaning it against his hip. 

And the second: The blazer that he was accused of wrinkling at the beginning of their conversation was the exact same as the one Percy himself was wearing. 

Did that mean—? Oh, hell...it did, Percy thinks. It is fairly safe to say that the Olympian Academy of Upper Manhattan had a newly enrolled student by the name of Luke fucking Castellan.

Running his hands over his face and breathing deeply, Percy starts walking to the front of the school building, only to realize that Luke had somehow managed to lift Percy’s messenger bag while he was at it. Without Percy even noticing.

Percy strolls into class late, his hands sheepishly tucked into the pockets of his khakis with his head down.

“So kind of you to join us, Mr. Jackson,” his teacher blankly states, her voice a monotone. “If you’ll please, stay after class and have a word with me.” Percy hums his understanding and takes a seat at the back of the small class. 

When Percy stays after class and informs his teacher that he was just helping a new student—a Luke Castellan, he believes—she nods, her lips tight but her eyes kind. 

“Let’s not make this an everyday occurrence, Percy, but you’re free to go,” she dismisses him, and Percy is thankful that her statement doesn’t need a response aside from a nod and a grateful smile. Because, frankly, Percy would have to agree with how much he hopes this doesn’t become an everyday occurrence. 

-

For the remainder of the day, random belongings of Percy’s show up on his desk at the beginning of class, even in his locker during his morning and afternoon breaks and lunch. That is the problem with Luke having his bag: he’s got Percy’s schedule, his books, his homework, his locker number and combination. The only things he doesn’t have are Percy’s wallet and phone, thankfully. 

By the end of the day, all of Percy’s stuff is safely back in his hands, except for his sociology book, which is not a surprise in the least. 

What is a surprise, though, is running into Luke at the end of the day when Percy is walking in a careless kind of way through the winding sidewalk path that cuts down the middle of the school to form the quad. There’s ivy climbing the bricks in such a clichéd way, and Percy wonders if every private school has to have ivy somewhere to be counted as official. Every private school he’s attended so far has had ivy in its quad, anyway. 

While those thoughts run those his head, Percy calls Grover, using the handy speed-dial application that Percy is quite dependent on. In fact, the only way Percy’s calling someone is by using his speed-dial. Everyone he regularly needs to talk to is in his speed-dial list—his mother, his father, Grover, and Annabeth topping off the list while Thalia, Nico, Bianca, and Zoe have their own respective places. It’s quite a delicately balanced thing, remembering all of the speed-dial numbers that correspond with each person, but it’s infinitely easier than raking through his contact list because, even if they are alphabetized, it’s hell on his dyslexia.

Percy is too busy disinterestedly answering Grover’s excited rambles about his day off from school that he doesn’t pay the shadows crossing the sidewalk any notice. It’s a shame, especially since the other person, who happens to be Luke, is not watching where he’s walking either, his attention focused on a slip of paper in his hands and a devilish smile on his face. 

And they collide. They  _really_  collide, and Luke’s height gives him the advantage in this case as Percy stumbles backwards. He swears quite profusely when his phone is knocked from his hands from the jarring contact. 

He’s about to lose his balance entirely and fall flat on his ass—which, wouldn’t that be wonderful and embarrassing?—when a hand wraps tightly around his wrist and tugs, almost with enough force to pull his arm out of socket. Percy thinks, though, that it’s just the fact that gravity was pushing him to the ground at the same time that he was being hauled to his feet by his arm. 

When he is able to stand on his own, he smoothes his shirt but leaves his tie alone since it’s already loosened at the neck, but then he sees who he ran into and his mind goes blank aside from one thought.   
 _  
Not again_. 

Percy’s almost positive that if he could’ve gotten away with a distressed whimper, he would’ve let it slip. While his mind reels over what just happened and Luke’s does the same as he adjusts the strap of his bag, they can both vaguely hear the distorted, grainy cries of Grover from the other end of the phone.

“Percy?! Man, what the heck is going on? Are you even gonna answer me?  _Percy!_ ” The last word is shrill and octaves higher than what would be expected from Grover, and it begs for Percy’s attention so much so that he snaps back to reality, jogging the few feet to pick up his phone. 

His eyes never leaving Luke’s, he says, “Yeah, uh, I gotta go, Grove. Call ya later,” and with that, he hits the “end” button, cutting Grover off mid-protest. Percy tells himself he only does this because he knows that it’s best to stop one of Grover’s rambles that occur when he’s excited, scared, or otherwise overly-emotional before they even begin. 

“So...,” Luke begins, looking a bit amused. 

“So, you still have my sociology book.” Percy resists the yearning to put a hand on his hip. That wouldn’t go over well.

“Yes, I do, but I also believe that I just saved your life, so...you owe me, not the other way around, right?” Luke feigns a naïve kind of hope with his innocent facial expression.

Percy isn’t having that. “Wrong.”

“Well, you seem to be awfully short-tempered today, and while I’ll admit that I don’t know if this is your normal disposition, you might want to consider changing that. It’s a bit, ah, off-putting.”

Percy can’t resist the urge he has this time: to roll his eyes. “Now, if only it would put  _you_  off...”

“Isn’t my persistence lovely?” Luke asks, smiling brightly, which only adds to Percy’s irritation. Well, it’s not irritation, per se, but it’s something. It’s frustrating, that’s for sure. 

“That’s not really the word I’d use to describe it,” Percy looks down, his blazer in hand because it’s too hot to wear in this weather and especially not when school’s over for the week. He’s thinking quickly, using his ADHD to his advantage and bouncing from thought to thought with ease. How was he going to get out of whatever conversation Luke was about to start with him that would likely end with empty pockets, or emptier pockets, at the very least? “Lovely or not, I’ve gotta go, so yeah.”

Percy starts to make a beeline for the other side of the quad so that he can just make his way home already. But, of course, Luke isn’t going to let that happen. 

His hand reaches out to stop Percy, the closest part of him which so happens to be his upper arm. “Hm, aren’t you just a strong little thing?”

Percy turns slowly, an eyebrow raised, “Excuse me?”

“I mean, I guess it does explain how you were able to stop me this morning and practically pull me to the ground where you would’ve likely left me to be trampled by the morning rush. How is that even possible?” The entire time Luke talks, Percy clenches his jaw repeatedly.

“How is what even possible?” He figures it’s best to bite and get this over with as fast as he can, and the best way to do that: playing along.

“You and your hidden strength or whatever. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you wouldn’t be my first pick for water polo in gym class or anything.”

Percy laughs, something between a snort and a scoff, “Then that’d be your loss. Because my so-called ‘hidden strength’ is the by-product of about a decade of swimming, which is great for lean muscle, if you were wondering.” Percy decides to finish his sentence with a bit of a snarky but playful tone to it, hoping that Luke would appreciate this. 

Luke clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth thoughtfully, as if he’s debating how he can use this information to his advantage. During the lull in the conversation, Percy attempts another escape, “So, bye.”

Luke lets him go, only shouting after him, “Yeah, so are we gonna meet at the front of the building around seven on Monday morning?”   
Percy stops walking, turns and says worriedly, “What are you talking about?”

And there’s that fucking smirk again. “Oh, you didn’t get a slip of paper?”

Percy shakes his head slowly, afraid of what the paper would tell him. 

“I’m kind of your charge now.”

Percy is apprehensive because, after all, shouldn’t this kid have had someone to take care of him already? And if so, why was this person no longer helping Luke out with the transition. “Why?”

“They had me with some girl, uh, Annabeth, I think? And I guess she didn’t feel that we got along very well. Of course, it could’ve been the fact that I stole her phone and changed every person in her contacts list to somebody from Greek mythology among other things, but still...” 

Luke’s got that look on his face, the one that tells Percy he bugged the hell out of Annabeth on purpose, that poor girl. All she wants to do in life is over-achieve and make revolutionary advances in building design, and here’s Luke, being a bother in the most extreme way he could think while Annabeth attempts to expand her college resume. 

Percy sighs, figuring there’s no way out of this, when a thought hits him: he never signed up to be on the school’s welcoming committee.

And Luke sees this realization cross Percy’s face. “So, maybe after Annabeth complained, I kind of, maybe, definitely did suggest that you and I were already somewhat  _acquainted_. I just might’ve left out the how, when, and why.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose to relieve some of the stress and agitation that’s beginning to boil over inside of Percy, he formulates a response to that, any response aside from screaming. Nothing comes to mind. 

When he looks up again to bid his goodbye to Luke, he’s already gone, which should come as no surprise. 

It doesn’t, and Percy heads for home, debating possible avoidance and evasion tactics that were discussed in his Strategy of War class he took for a semester last year as a history course. 

He has a sinking feeling in the bottom of his stomach that Luke will already know how to counteract anything Percy could up with, that sly, cunning bastard. 

-

Percy could swear that Luke is some kind of crazy. Or you know, at least not at all there upstairs. Wouldn’t be the first time that an Upper Manhattan private school attendee abused his ability to have at least half of the world at his hands as the product of a split-second decision. Nor would it be the first time that Percy’s attracted unnecessary trouble. 

The thing is, Percy’s usually well-equipped at handling most of the issues that fly his way. 

Great Dane in the Metropolitan Museum of Art? Percy’s got that under control.

Grover “accidentally” attracting a flock of birds by playing a wooden flute shaped like a turtle in Central Park that proceed to dive-bomb and chase the two of them? Yeah, no problem. 

Being chased by security in the Manhattan Opera House on a field trip for one of the various music classes Percy took? No big deal. 

But being stolen from and playfully taunted by the new kid at school who apparently had no sense of boundaries or, in the very least, the inability to acknowledge their existence? 

Yeah, Percy’s screwed when it comes to this. He’s pretty sure that Luke’s not going to find any replacement victim as good enough, seeing as he seems dead-set on making Percy’s life in particular a living hell. 

Percy doesn’t like it, not one bit, that Luke is this supposedly fascinated by Percy, so insistent upon attaching himself to Percy’s hip—or rather, it’s more of a persistent peering over Percy’s shoulder in that way that makes the person uneasy, as if they’re being followed and watched. 

Which is exactly the feeling Luke lends Percy. And if he hasn’t mentioned it yet: he doesn’t like it. 

He spends his Friday night sulking around the apartment, and while it’s not a bad place to spend his time at all, it’s just not what any teenage boy should be doing with his Friday night, especially not when he’s got all of New York City to entertain. One of the world’s largest playgrounds at his fingertips, and yet he cannot seem to enjoy that for the life of him. 

He blames Luke because that’s the only reasonable explanation: that everything is Luke’s fault.

Percy’s not usually one to be so easily affected, and that’s what is upsetting him the most. Even though his mother’s off of work early when he gets home from school, baking chocolate chip cookies for him, Percy cannot seem to get the fact that he let Luke get to him out of his head. 

Or, rather, just Luke. He cannot get Luke out of his head. He can still hear that coy tone of voice and smirking, amused face out of his mind, as if it’s that annoying song on the radio that repeats in your brain on a loop until it drives you absolutely insane. 

Percy lies on his bed for most of the afternoon and evening, ignoring Grover’s calls and texts, even the ones that tell Percy that there’s a party at Annabeth’s and that everybody will be there. Yeah, Percy’s popular, and he would normally feel obligated to go. Hell, he’d even  _want_  to go, and maybe going to a party is exactly what he needs to get his mind off of how to deal with Luke, but he’s not in the mood as it is. 

He eats dinner with his mother, listening to her tell him about her day, but not offering much up about his own. He manages to escape after dinner and after he puts his dishes in the dishwasher, rinsing them in the sink with an explanation that it was a long week and just another day. He slides through the typical list of excuses.  _He’s really tired. He needs his rest before swim practice tomorrow. Blah, blah, blah._  

His phone continues to beep every few minutes, the foray of people wondering about his whereabouts increasing with each hour. One might think that after a while, they’d realize that texts are not the easiest way for Percy to communicate, and just because text him more, that doesn’t mean he’s going to answer.

He doesn’t bother answering Grover, who will spend more time rambling about how worried he is about if Percy is okay than Percy wants to deal with at the moment. 

Percy doesn’t even attempt to sort out the jumbles of Annabeth’s texts because whatever there is, or was, between them, Percy especially doesn’t want to worry about that right now. It seems heartless, but hey, he’s had a rough day. 

He reads a few of Thalia’s texts. They don’t require much of an answer, just informative texts about what’s going on tonight, should Percy want to join the fun, 

He doesn’t, just for reference. But he does appreciate the casual offer, if that counts for anything. It probably doesn’t though.

Percy actually answers Nico’s texts to the best of his ability, and he does it in an unaffected manner, neither irritated nor enthused, since Nico asks about going out for lunch after Percy’s swim practice tomorrow. 

Nico is a fun kid to hang out with, and while he is a few years younger than Percy and could be a bit obnoxious and immature, his sister has become a good friend of Percy’s since the beginning of the school year.

Their father’s know each other, and while Percy never knew how his father knew Nico’s, he doesn’t bother to ask, even if Nico can be a bit morbid and creepy sometimes. He dutifully looks after Bianca as she sorts out the tangle of high school life as a freshman, and he looks out for Nico as best he can. 

He accepts Nico’s offer to for lunch with Bianca, if only to get his mind of his current dilemma. 

Luke.

Yeah, Percy really needs to think of something to do about him because it’s only been a day. But at this rate...

-

Percy’s something of a natural in the water, always has been. His mother swears up and down that it’s practically part of his genetic make-up and survival instinct, passed down from his father who is also an avid appreciator of the aquatic way of life. 

There’s just some cleansing and clearing effect that the water has on Percy. He never has anything to worry about if he’s swimming; it washes away every concern he could have at any given point in time. 

Then there was Luke. 

Luke, who Percy can’t even manage to get out of his mind while he is swimming, and honestly he’s been doing laps—freestyle, backstroke, butterfly—for the better part of two hours aside from his warm-up. And yet, as Percy pulls himself out of his lane while another guy dives in during their practice run of the two-hundred meter medley relay, he mistakes one guy in the pool area for Luke. 

Percy can only blame the water in his eyes so much—even after he shakes his head and sends water droplets flinging off of his hair and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, he still admits to himself that the guy does look somewhat like Luke. 

By the time of the cool-down team stretch, Percy is exhausted, but has to remind himself that he’s still lunch with Nico and Bianca. 

As the other guys on the team count off their stretches, Percy’s mind wanders, and even though he tries to think about anything but Luke, his thoughts always end up circling back to him. And, unfortunately, this continues throughout the entire cool-down, and he even miscounts a few times, embarrassingly having to catch up by moving onto the next stretch before anybody notices. 

In Percy’s distant state of mind, he forgets to watch his step as he crosses the slippery deck of the pool area, and he almost loses his balance completely on the way to the locker rooms.

His first thought is of almost falling after running into Luke the day before. 

He doesn’t  _think_  about Luke, and yet, he’s always on Percy’s mind. 

-

Percy’s lunch with Bianca and Nico goes fairly well. Nico explains to Percy that he’s managed to beat a kid five times at Pokemon already this school year, and Bianca tells Percy about her second week at school, ignoring Nico’s occasional references that equate high school to a Pokemon battle.

He walks them home given that their apartment building is on his way to his own, and Percy is thankful for the busy life of the New York streets on a busy, late-summer Saturday. It’s something of a distraction, and it’s only when Percy arrives home to his empty apartment, that he realizes just how caught up he was in watching every one else only moments before. 

He reads his mother’s note on the island in the kitchen, surrounded by stools, that announces that she’s out running errands. He considers sitting down momentarily and perhaps starting on his homework; the silence might allow him to concentrate if he’s lucky. But he knows that Luke will not, even if it’s just in his head. 

With a hefty sigh, Percy walks over to the windows so that he can watch the people hustle about in the streets, but that quickly bores him.

There are a few possibilities for Percy. He could call his father, he could play a video game, he could watch some television, but everything that would normally occupy him on a Saturday doesn’t seem so captivating at the moment. 

He sulks around for a little while longer, finally settling on taking a nap. When he wakes up, it’s close to four and Percy calls up Grover, looking for something else to do. 

-

The walk to the nearest Blockbuster rental store isn’t very far from Percy’s apartment, just a few streets over and a couple streets up, and Percy ventures in that direction after talking to his mother about ordering take-out on his way home. 

When she asks about his plans for the evening, he tells her that he asked Grover to do something but that he’d already made plans to go to an observatory outside of the city with Thalia. Percy doesn’t necessarily mind since getting out of the house on his own might be best. 

Grover would definitely sense that something is wrong with Percy. 

The walk goes by quickly, and there’s a small lament from Percy when he realizes that he’s standing outside of the movie rental store. 

The store is rather busy, like it always is on a Saturday night, so it is no surprise that as Percy walks in and out of the aisles, searching for just the right movie to watch that night, he can feel people watching him. That’s probably why he doesn’t notice Luke’s eyes following him continually, charting his movement from across the store for a good ten minutes. 

Even though Luke’s already picked out his movie,  _Gone in Sixty Seconds_ —it’s an educational flick, he tells himself, it’ll improve his thieving methods—he lingers back, pretending to look for another movie but also careful to stay out of Percy’s line of vision and avoid running into him. 

When Percy broaches the romantic comedy section, Luke snickers slightly to himself out of amusement, an idea already formulating itself in his mind. There aren’t many other people hanging around that area, all for the best in Luke’s eyes. 

He walks up slowly, staying sure that he makes no sudden movements and that Percy doesn’t see him until Luke wants him to. It’s got to be a gradual thing, and Luke strategically eases himself down the aisle, periodically looking at a few movies and then taking a few lazy steps toward Percy. 

Luke decides that Percy’s either a very spaced-out type of person or what movie to rent is a serious topic for him because Luke happens to be standing right beside Percy without him even noticing. 

He almost chuckles to himself, but he manages to stop himself because the look on Percy’s face when reality comes crashing down will be priceless, a Kodak moment.

It’s all about the timing, and he waits until Percy puts back a movie and grabs for another to make his move. Luke reaches for the same movie at the same time as Percy and when their hands collide, Percy turns his head quickly, mutters an apology and steps to the side, not quite realizing who it was that he was apologizing to. 

Because had he noticed, it’s highly doubtful that he would’ve apologized. A scoff and a nostril-flare would have been a more fitting reaction from Percy. 

However, that’s when the double-take happens. Actually, it’s more of a triple-take, Luke notices, because the first glance was during the apology and the second one was accompanied by a look of utter confusion and anger. Then there’s the third and final glance: one look of horror and shock from Percy with his eyes wide. 

He swears during the second glance sideways at the other guy standing near him is just another person he mistakes for Luke. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it angers him that he still can’t seem to escape him. 

But then he looks over for a third time, realization dawning on him that it really is Luke standing beside him, probably not at all by any act of fate, probably planned out precariously by Luke—every word and maneuver he would use to get to Percy already mapped out. 

“A boy with a face like yours rents movies and orders take-out on a Saturday night?” Luke asks with a coy smile, picking up a random DVD case from the shelf and skimming the description on the back. 

“Yeah, what’s it to you? And how did you know I was going to go get take-out?” Percy is cautious, and he goes over any thing he has just done or said that would give Luke this idea. 

“Oh, you’re worried that I’m reading you mind, aren’tcha? Well, I’m not; it was just an assumption, and I mean, I  _am_  normally spot-on with my assumptions but we’ll overlook that fact for now.” Luke turns the case around in his hand as if he’s debating renting it or not, if it’s worth spending five bucks. 

Percy inhales and exhales slowly through his nose, looking at his shoes and trying not to blow a fuse on Luke. 

“So, how exactly do you, you know, pick out a movie? I mean, this is like written word, and I’m assuming that dyslexia of yours makes it difficult to read the descriptions on the back, let alone the movie titles.” Luke clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Hm, maybe they should consider having the option to see the trailer of all of these movies for their  _handicapped_  customers. I mean, it’s it like having a ramp entrance instead of simply stairs?” 

While Percy absolutely  _despises_  when people think of him as handicapped just because it takes him longer to read than most people, he knows that Luke is only doing this to draw out a reaction from Percy. 

“I can read, it just takes...time,” he explains, an eyebrow raised and his eyes dangerous. He doesn’t break eye contact with Luke. “I see you aren’t doing anything to deal with your  _handicap_ ,” he nods at the movie case in Luke’s hand. “In fact, I would say that’s something like spurring it on, encouraging yourself to steal even more. Real nice move, I bet the world of people who actually pay for stuff they want instead of stealing it from others really appreciate that.”

“Hey now, let’s be civil, why don’t we?” Luke smiles, obviously one of fake cheer. “I do have morals after all, I don’t just steal whatever comes my way, you know—”

“—No, I don’t know, and I’d rather not, thanks. I’d like to stay uninvolved with your illegality, thank you very much—”

“—And as for the movie,  _as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted_ , I mean, it’s only got a six out of ten rating on IMDb. But, I still say it’ll be a nice learning experience, shall I say. Maybe even you can learn a lesson or two from this. These guys can steal some of the most cherished cars in sixty seconds or less. Now just imagine what I can do in sixty seconds...”

“I’d rather not,” Percy states it simply, his tone short.

“Maybe you should consider watching it some other time. Not tonight obviously, since I’ll be renting it, and stealing would be more my area of expertise, yes? Well, anyway, you should definitely consider watching...,” Luke scans the shelves in front of the two of them quickly, seeking out a particular movie and then finding it. He snatches up the case and sets it against Percy’s chest, waiting for Percy to grab a hold of it so that he could let go. Percy does so reluctantly, and Luke continues, “ _this_.”

It takes him a moment, and once he realizes what movie Luke has handed him, Percy seems skeptical, “ _Serendipity_?”

Luke nods vehemently, “Yes, you should watch this movie tonight, and on Monday, you can tell me what you thought of the movie during lunch, sound good?”

Without waiting for an answer, Luke begins walking backwards, something he seems to greatly enjoy doing during these meetings they keep having. Percy replies, “Oh, I reckon I don’t have a choice, do I? But I think I’ll pass on  _Gone in Sixty Seconds_. I do believe I’ve already seen what you’re capable of.”

With his head cocked to the side, Luke asks, “Have you?”

Confusion and suspicion spread across Percy’s face. 

Luke continues, “I would suggest that you do a quick inventory, but then that’d be giving myself away, wouldn’t it?”

While Percy looks down, hands moving to his pockets and quickly taking checking the possessions he has with him, Luke makes his getaway, so that when Percy looks back up questioningly—he has everything, he’s sure—Luke is gone. 

Big surprise. 

Percy stands in the same aisle for a good five minutes, debating if he should actually rent this movie or not. 

He finally decides that it’s in his best interests, especially those of his safety and pride, to just go along with what Luke said. He rents the movie begrudgingly, walks home in a confused daze of  _why did I listen to him?_  and forgets to stop for take-out.

-

Monday morning is dreadful. Percy has nothing to look forward to when he pulls himself out of bed, already thinking about how he probably shouldn’t have left the warm comfort of his sheets in favor for a day full of Luke tagging along and asking a bunch of pointless questions with the sole purpose of annoying the hell out of Percy. 

Percy’s nerves are shot even this early, and he didn’t much sleep at all that weekend, his nap on Saturday aside. He forgot to study for a potential pop-quiz in his statistics class, and he’ll have to stay after school to fill out forms for the administration, documenting his time with Luke during the day. 

He’s only been awake for fifteen minutes and already, Percy’s day is at rock-bottom. It takes the will of a warrior, but Percy manages to not skip school, no matter how slowly he shuffles out of his apartment as he straightens his tie and pulls his messenger bag onto his shoulder.

The morning passes fairly smoothly; Luke doesn’t seem to be much a morning person when he isn’t stealing things and running from the rightful owner. 

But apparently the forty-five minute lunch break they have is all Luke needs to be refueled and ready to attack. 

Around a mouthful of cinnamon roll from the bakery down the street from the school, Luke asks, “So, did you watch the movie?” His face and tone of voice are way too eager and awaiting for Percy to even consider not rolling his eyes. 

“Yes, I did.” Percy doesn’t elaborate and continues to tear at the lettuce hanging over the edge of the bread of his sandwich. 

Luke looks at him in what appears to be the most patient way he can until he cannot wait any longer, “...and?!”

Percy shrugs, looking around the place and then settling his eyes on Luke, “And it was just another romantic comedy, nothing too special. I feel that I need to draw particular attention to the fact that I have ADHD and watching that entire movie was a real chore, just so you’re aware.”  
Luke sighs, shaking his head, “You missed the entire point of that movie, didn’t you?”

“Well, I assume so,” Percy checks his watch, hoping that it’s time to start walking back to the school. It’s not. “Please, enlighten me.”

His words may be encouraging, but the rest of his demeanor is not. He’s slouched in his seat, his head tipped back to rest against the wall behind his chair, and his face shows nothing but bored disinterest. 

Luke shifts forward in his seat from his previously slouching position. “Okay, so there are those two people, right? Sara and John, and they decide to leave their relationship up to fate even though they live in one of the biggest cities ever and chances are that they’ll never find each other by chance again. And even though they choose to put their names and numbers on a five dollar bill and in a book and agree that they’ll only allow fate to bring them together that way, they still end up fighting fate to try to get back to each other.”

Percy nods slowly; he did actually watch the movie after all. By a miracle, nonetheless.

“And, well, how is that not a fantastic concept?” Luke asks, his voice growing with enthusiasm. Percy’s never seen such conviction from Luke, and even though he’s only known him for three and a half days, it’s still something that Percy makes an important mental note of. 

“I guess it is,” Percy agrees lamely. “But I don’t really believe in destiny or whatever. There are too many individual choices we make in life for fate to have too great a role in our lives.”

“But that’s where you’re wrong, Perce,” Luke explains. 

“It’s Percy,” Percy intercedes sharply. 

Luke pays him no mind, “Even despite some of the choices we make, to do a certain thing or to make sure something bad doesn’t happen, sometimes things just go differently than planned, no matter how much we try the opposite. And sometimes, we try to keep certain people away and out of our lives, even if that’s not what the universe wants. You saw the movie; you know that no matter how many close-calls there are, whatever is meant to happen, will. No matter what you do to stop it.”

Percy chooses not to respond to this. Probably because he doesn’t know how.

-

The week rolls by almost like any other. Percy goes to school, and it’s almost as if Luke adapts to Percy’s schedule and way of doing things and vice versa. By the end of the week, Percy practically feels like a veteran in dealing with Luke’s snide remarks, cunning displays of stupidity, and sudden bursts of mischief. But don't let that fool you; it's really quite obnoxious.

It’s to the point that Percy wonders if Luke will ask him to do anything over the weekend that he might give it a moment’s thought, even if he would disagree eventually. And he already knows how Luke would respond: with a snarky comment and a quick snatching of Percy’s wallet. 

In the course of the week, Luke stole exactly seventeen things from him. That’s more than three things a day, and yes, Percy kept track. It’s always little things, and Luke does return them, except for the half of Percy’s chocolate bar that he stole on Wednesday during their morning break and the half of Percy’s sandwich that he has for lunch on Thursday and a few sips of Percy’s coffee on Friday. 

Luke, of course, complained about Percy putting too much cream in it, and Percy just rolled his eyes and snatched the cup out of Luke’s hands. Percy is thankful that they’ve been able to fall into some sort of routine, a bit of give and take that easily balances out the stress Luke causes and the stress Percy causes Luke in return. 

It’s unusual, but they make it work, even if their variety of “making things work” includes the occasional argument that isn’t so good-natured. 

Percy doesn’t mind losing the fights as long as he gets to pick where Luke will follow him to lunch. 

-

Luke’s had a lot of bad ideas in his short sixteen years of life, and by “a lot” he means “more than his fair share.” He means if every bad idea was a brick, he could’ve re-built the Empire State Building all on his own. 

This, however, has got to be in the top ten. He doesn’t very well know what possessed him to do this, but then again, he’s always feeling those necessary urges to do something rash and reckless and spur-of-the-moment. It’s what he’s best at. 

The lock on the door to apartment 9C gives way to him quite easily, which comes as no surprise. He’s been at this since he was eight, or a more accurate description would be that he finally perfected the art of picking a lock at eight. What could he say? He was an early bloomer and a fast learner. And lock-picking aside, both of those qualities are so very coveted in the world of thieves. 

After all, if you don’t learn from your mistakes, well, you’ll be in jail or killed faster than you can make a run for it. Unless you’re an ace sprinter, another one of those highly sought-after kleptomaniac traits. 

After hearing the tell-tale click of a picked lock, he began to fold up his black fabric, fold-out kit, complete with thirty-two of the best tools for lock picking: a few tension picks, a wide variety of picks designed for American locks, a handful of warded lock picks, and even a few picks specially made for European locks. 

Shoving the folded kit into his bag, he stands to his feet, brushing off his knees as he opens the door to the apartment cautiously. There’s something about breaking into an apartment that is a sacred art, for thieves anyway. Every lock that clicks open for them, every slow turn of a door handle, every inching creak of an opening door, every peer around the door to make sure that nobody was there, even after knocking a few times and waiting patiently for at least a few minutes before getting out the tools of his trade. 

For a moment, he takes it all in, just stands in the entry hall of the apartment and relishes in the relief and subtle, buzzing thrill that rolls over him. God, he loves breaking and entering, even if stealing is his real specialty. Then again, you usually don’t have one without the other. 

Letting go of the breath he was holding, Luke spins around quickly, his eyes scanning the inside of the entryway. He begins to create some sort of inventory in his mind of the apartment, a floor plan, if you will. It’s always done this way. He’s got a ritual of sorts for breaking into a new place. 

It begins with careful surveillance, you have to time things right and have a general knowledge of the inhabitants, of course. 

Continues with a bit of planning. What will he do once he breaks in? Is he stealing anything or is this just a practice run or for the thrill? How long will he stay? Emergency exit strategy? 

Luke makes sure that he answers all of those questions and some others before he even sets anything into motion. 

Once a general set of rules for himself is established and there’s a plan to follow should the whole ordeal head south, Luke allows himself to venture off to actually break in. 

After the actual entering of the house has taken place, he creates a separate floor plan in his mind of the place apart from the one he previously obtains during the planning stage of the endeavor. You could get floor plans for almost any building if you knew where to look: City Hall, with the building inspectors, real estate agents. And, naturally, Luke knows exactly where to look. 

He adds the coat rack and hanging mirror in the entrance hall to his mental catalogue of items, which he does with every place that he is, whether he’ll be stealing anything or not. 

And, as part of the planning stage, Luke swore to himself that he would not be taking anything from this place,  _not one single thing, no matter what_.

He has some morals, after all. 

Not to mention, Luke has some ground to make up. He has a theory, if you will. The first time any one person meets Luke, that person either loves him or hates him. If that person loves him, he will repeatedly fuck up until that person hates him. If that person hates him, he has to make up ground to get that person to a point where they love him. 

And then a cycle continues, so that once that person realizes they hate him, Luke attempts to get back in their good graces again. And once the other person loves him, he will fuck up in a momentous kind of way so that they hate him yet again. It’s just a cycle that Luke has grown accustomed to and learned how to deal with. 

And he’s got  _a ton_  of ground to make up for with Percy. That’s kind of how he finds himself in Percy’s apartment after school on Friday while Percy’s at swim practice. 

He’s got a lot of ground to make up, and the only reasonable way to go about doing that is to learn about Percy, see what he can do that will make Percy like him. Since Percy isn’t offering anything up about his life, Luke figures that the second best way to learn all about a person, and also speediest way, would be to break into their house. 

As logic would tell someone, a person’s house is where they feel at home, and most people don’t really expect someone to break into their home while they’re away so they don’t usually bother to clean up, put away anything that could give away an embarrassing habit or a cheesy hobby. 

Luke thinks it’s perfect. If he had his way, he would just break into people’s homes to learn about them instead of asking them himself. It’s just a lot less of a hassle that way. 

Sure, Luke’s good with picking locks, and people are like locks but that’s an entire other theory in and of itself. Luke prides himself on being good with people, being able to weather through the time and care that it takes to get a person to open up, it’s like trying to pick a particularly stubborn lock. 

Percy’s one damn stubborn lock, and Luke’s tried to be patient even if it’s only been a week. But it also seems that Percy doesn’t quite fall for Luke’s charm and charismatic snark. Which is a problem. And a first. And Luke’s impatient by nature, damnit. He wants what he wants when he wants it, and hell, that’s probably where his kleptomania started in the first place. 

It’s just a bit harder to steal someone’s heart than a person’s iPod.

Luke and his creative thinking, or thief thinking—whatever you want to call it—determine that breaking into Percy’s apartment is the best way to go about picking the lock that is Percy Jackson.

-

After doing a slow sweep of the rest of the apartment, Luke heads off to what he has deduced to be Percy’s room, but before doing so, he goes through the schematics of the apartment once more, to make sure that he’s got it memorized.

There’s the kitchen, immediately off to the left after walking in, with a standard island in the middle and two counter with stools that separates it from the rest of the apartment. A table off beyond that before the main room of the apartment that serves as a large living room. 

This apartment’s got floor to ceiling windows so it’s well-lit and has a smooth, optimistic atmosphere. When he is studying the room, Luke vaguely thinks to himself for a moment that this would be where he would want to spend his lazy Saturday mornings and Sunday afternoons. 

A large, black-leather L-shaped couch and a flat screen television that is just as large as the couch. Off to the right, the master bedroom is situated in the back corner of the apartment, or rather, where two of the three bedrooms should’ve been, but it seems as though the wall separated the rooms had been torn down. Luke adjusts his mental floor plan accordingly. 

That’s when he toes the door to Percy’s room open more as it’s shut half of the way haphazardly, as if he was rushed out of the door this morning and didn’t bother to shut it or leave it open. 

Luke stops for a moment; he doesn’t move. His feet are glued to the ground, his eyes wash over the room, but it’s not the usual quick scan that Luke used for the rest of the apartment. It’s a slow, gazing sweep, as if he’s trying to take note of every single object in the room instead of just the important things. 

He knows that if this was any other apartment he was just attacking for the fun of it, he wouldn’t notice the ceramic pot on the dresser full of strings of knotted rope necklaces, some with shells intertwined. 

He wouldn’t have noticed the small fulgurite on the dresser, either. 

Or the stacks of swimming magazines,  _Sports Illustrated_  included but only when a swimmer or swimming article headline graced the cover. There aren’t even  _Swimsuit_  Editions. Nope, not a one. Luke smiles to himself at Percy’s dedication. 

There’s a shelf full of trophies with golden figurines of swimmers on the other side of the room, hidden somewhat away in the far corner and away from the light from Percy’s window, complete with the stereotypical New York fire escape. 

Once Luke is finished with his study of Percy’s room, he tries to analyze all of the information he’s just taken in. He figures that Percy’s attitude could be attributed to Percy’s being stuck in the city when he seems like an ocean is all he needs to be happy. But then again, it could just be because Luke stole from him the first time they met. 

And damn, that’s a hard first impression to overcome, Luke is realizing. 

Luke turns and crouches, flicking through the movie, music, and video game collection Percy has in his room. He thinks that they will get along just fine as soon as he can make Percy get over his coldness towards Luke. Yeah, easier said than done. 

Of course, if movie, music, and video game collections were the only justifications for two teenage guys getting along, then every male teenager would be friends with every other. Of course, now that Luke thinks about it, most guys are cool with each other, and it’s just when girls and their dramatics get involved that shit really starts to hit the fan. 

Just as Luke finishes his inspection of Percy’s media, he’s about to check out the garbage can, as unusual as it may sound. However, what people throw away can be one of the most telling traces people leave behind; you can learn almost anything about a person from what they throw out. A receipt from their favorite store that can tell you everything from their pant size to their income. More empty soda cans than empty water bottles? Starbucks cups from every day of the week or a Folgers can every so often?

But before Luke can even locate the trash can in Percy’s room, his strained ears—always on red alert when he’s in somebody else’s dwelling—hear what can only be the sound of keys clanking in the decorative little glass dish on the table in the entry hall. 

“Fuck,” Luke whispers under his breath, standing quickly but silently and beginning his slow and measured steps toward Percy’s window and fire escape. That was his pre-planned, emergency exit strategy. He’s careful with his steps, not about to make a rookie mistake because he is in danger of being caught. One wrong step could get him busted quicker than taking his time. 

He fumbles with the latch on the window as quietly as he can while his eyes are locked on the door, which he thankfully shut a few inches more behind him. He was going to push it back to its originally half-open position though, of course. You can’t leave any trace that you were there, that would give yourself away. 

The latch gives way, the window slides open easily—making it apparent that Percy is one to use his window or his fire escape frequently—and Luke is on his way out without a sound. 

Until he realizes, as he’s pulling his leg through the window, that he left his bag behind from when he was checking out Percy’s DVD rack. His mind is one blurred curse composed of probably every swear word in the book—and maybe even a handful of newly invented ones—and his eyes grow wide. 

Such a rookie move is all Luke can think as he is frozen in place. Another rookie moves. Two rookie moves at once, at the worst possible moment. He is fucked. 

He can’t make a move to grab his bag and he can’t go any further on the fire escape without it. He’s stuck, trapped, and for the first time in his life, Luke doesn’t know what to do. 

For the first time in his life, Luke might...get caught. 

And really, now’s not the time to be laying blame or anything, but Luke and his teenage guy brain are already at that. He blames Percy. Oh yeah.

He knows that it’s Percy who’s home early because of the foot steps: the heaviness of them, the pace of each step, the sound they make on the hardwood entryway. Luke just knows how Percy walks, and if that wasn’t a typical “thief” thing to know, Luke might dwell on that fact, even when other matters are clearly more important.

Luke’s mind stops reeling with swears and curses that would make a sailor blush temporarily to send a quick prayer, asking for a miracle. 

Maybe Percy’s the kind of guy who turns on the television and gets something to eat when he first gets home. Except Luke and his surveillance background know that this is not the case. 

Percy’s the kind of guy who’s already loosening his tie and shucking his blazer as he’s stepping through the door and toeing off his shoes somewhere along the path from the entrance to his room. The kind of guy who unbuttons his shirt the entire way as well, already slipping it off his shoulders as he steps through the door of his bedroom. 

He’s the guy who exchanges his stuffy, private school uniform for a t-shirt and sweatpants at the first opportunity. 

That’s how Luke knows that it’s game over. He has no chance of a timely escape that would go unnoticed. 

And so, that’s how Percy finds Luke, half in his room and half out the window, straddling the ledge and looking rather sheepish. He’s not sure if Luke was just leaving or just arriving. He’s not sure he even wants to know.

“What the fuck?!” Percy shouts, stumbling backwards out of shock. His bag, which he was in the process of moving from his shoulder to the floor, hits the hardwood floor with a thud that resonates in the sharp silence following Percy’s scream. His muscles slacken, and his blazer and tie also fall to the ground, his blazer falling much faster while the tie flutters to the ground a bit more gracefully. 

Luke, deciding that being his usual, playful self is best, crawls through the window and into the room entirely. “Oh, hey, Perce. What’s up, man?” he asks, clapping a hand on Percy’s shoulder as if nothing out of the ordinary is occurring. 

Well, for Luke it might not be  _too incredibly_  out of the ordinary, but then again, he’s never been caught before, and he’s certainly never made a rookie mistake before, let alone two at the same time. 

Percy looks at him, a cross between fuming anger and utter horror on his face, before saying, “What’s up? What’s up?! What’s up is I’ve got some new kid from school crawling through my window, either to leave or break in, I’m not really sure, but either way, some breaking in is necessary, since if you’re leaving, you had to have gotten in here somehow! And, speaking of...,” Percy trails off, his eyes noticing Luke’s bag sitting on the floor by his feet. He even does a double-take to make sure that it’s not his bag. It’s not. And with a renewed kind of vigor that Luke never knew Percy could have, he starts yelling again, “You broke in, and you were just leaving! What the hell is going on?! Why did you break into my apartment?”

It continues like that for quite some time...eleven minutes to be precise. Luke times it, utilizing the digital alarm clock on Percy’s nightstand. Luke can tune out enough of the conversation and still get the main points. Let’s face it, Luke’s been through the whole “getting-caught” conversation in his head before, just in case—so that he would know what to say in the event that he did get caught.. 

There are really only two ways the conversation can go: confused silence and speechlessness. Or this. 

Percy hits the main points that Luke expected: the “why are you here?” and the “how did you get in?” and the “what were you gonna take?” and the “you creepy stalker you!” 

Then there’s the not-so-usual stuff that Luke registers in between the usual screams and long-winded rants: the “no sense of boundaries” and the “annoying smirk” and the “stupid snarky comments” and the other things that Luke would bet that Percy has wanted to get off his chest all week. 

And that annoying smirk that Percy mentions, it really isn’t there for most of the conversation—well, the one-sided conversation actually because it’s mostly just Percy yelling while Luke opens his mouth to interject, protest, and defend himself while Percy cuts him off before he can.

Although when Percy mentions the smirk—multiple times, Luke’s mind points out to himself—and how stubborn Luke is and how persistently Luke’s been center-stage in his thoughts, Luke can’t help but smirk to himself. 

When Percy finally winds down, Luke’s just standing patiently there because he knows that Percy has to stop eventually. Percy stops mid-step—he’s been pacing like a madman for the past ten minutes—and his hands run over his face. 

Luke takes this moment of silence to interject, “Is your land-lord aware that you took out a wall over in what is now the master bedroom?”

Percy looks up slowly, his eyes tired, “Yeah, he’s the one that had it taken out.” He’s clearly distracted.

Luke waits for it. One, two, thr—

Oh, there it is. The double-take. 

“How the  _fuck_  did you know that?”

Luke smirks to himself. And cue freak-out part two. 

This was how option 3A went in Luke’s mind when he’d first planned out the potential reactions he could’ve gotten from whoever caught him in the act of breaking and entering and attempting to exit. 

3A was Luke’s favorite. It was amusing. It pleases him greatly—and also makes him like Percy that much more—that 3A is the reaction option that Percy unknowingly executes. 

And of course, Percy has to calm down again from his second wind, which Luke takes advantage of for humor’s sake, anyway. 

“Hm, never knew you had that much anger bottled away, Perce. And to answer your original question of—and I quote, I do believe— ‘How the fuck did you know that?’: floor plans, my dear Percy, floor plans. And before you ask where I obtained said floor plans, you should that you can find anything if you know where to look. And you’ve got quite a mouth for a little, darling thing like yourself.”

Percy sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and sitting down on his bed, his shirt flowing open with his movement. Because, as Luke knew, Percy was indeed about to change into something more comfortable than the rigid, uptight clothing required by the school. 

“Let’s start at the beginning: Why are you here?” 

Luke shrugs, “Would you like the honest answer or the ‘I’m lying to you for your own good’ answer?” He’s enjoying pretending that he fully intended to steal something. 

Percy looks at him, noticing that Luke’s eyes are dancing too much to be honest. “Cut the shit, Castellan. What are you doing in my house?”

“Why don’t we come back to that question? If I answer the other questions first, it might answer this one,” Luke suggests, leaning on the edge of Percy’s desk.

Deciding that it’s best to go along with this and get at least a few answers out of Luke, Percy asks, “How did you get in here?”

“Picked the lock, of course. How else?” Luke catches Percy’s eye as it moves to the window.

“Oh, you thought I was a climber? Hell nah, sometimes window latches are too tightly locked for that knife trick to work, and then I’d have to run all the way down the escape, and somebody could see me, and it’d be one huge waste of time when I know that lock-picking is reliable ninety-nine times out of one hundred for me,” Luke explains, giving more of an answer than Percy expects, or even hopes for. 

“So, you’ve done this before? You know, picked locks, broken in places?”

Luke chuckles, blatantly amused, “Of course. You thought this was a one time deal?”

Percy chooses to ignore the question that Luke’s practically begging him to ask,  _How many times have you done this before?_    
He doesn’t really want to know the answer, because right now, he’s more interested in learning as much about Luke as he can because, quite frankly, up until this point, he’s been something of a mystery. Percy knew he was a smart-ass, a mischievous little bastard, but he never actually knew much about him. 

Percy settles for, “How did you know I wouldn’t be home?”

“You’ve got swim practice every other Friday, and apparently, you’ve got a little rebellious streak because you’re skipping practice right now.” A guilty silence. Luke adds, “Which seems rather unusual given your, how should I put it,  _dedication_  for the sport.” 

Percy almost blushes and looks away, “Well, maybe you’ve should’ve tailed me to practice to see that I actually went today.” Percy intends for there to be a bit of bite to the comment, but his inner reserve of bitterness seems to be running a bit low. 

Luke laughs, “And waste time?”

Then a thought occurs to Percy, “Wait, how did you know I had swim practice every other Friday?”

“I tailed you. I figured you had that figured out for yourself,” Luke adds, referring to Percy’s previous mention of Luke tailing him to practice. “That and I talked to that kid...uh, shit, what’s his name? ...Nick?” Luke drums his fingers on the desk, trying to jog his memory. He’s usually quite good with names.

“Nico,” Percy offers, correcting him. And then another thought occurs to him. 

Luke’s really loving this. Sure, he got caught, but if he could plan out how he would want the reaction to happen, this would be it. Percy’s just making it all too damn funny; the facial expressions are really worth the trouble.

“You tailed me?!”

Luke begins laughing, doubling over, and once he musters up the strength to compose himself, he nods, “Yeah, what, you thought I was just gonna jump into water without knowing what kinds of sharks there were?”

Percy doesn’t let this go, and Luke almost believes for a second that Percy might be starting his freak-out part three. Instead, Percy just lets out a long sigh and says, “Are you some kind of stalker or something?”

“Eh, not exactly. It’s not my fault that the school system doesn’t guard its students’ permanent records and files as much as it ought to,” Luke says, being entirely serious, which catches Percy off-guard. 

Percy blinks and stares, “Wait. You said, ‘not exactly.’ What do you mean? What are you then? Fuck, you’re like a serial killer, aren’t you? I’ve seen those crime shows, and you guys are always so damn charming and shit.”

Luke raises his eyebrows, “Do I look like a serial killer? I’m kind of thinking I should be offended, right now, Perce. But I know you wouldn’t intentionally hurt my feelings...Oh, but the fact that you think I’m charming is wonderful.” Luke flashes a toothy grin.

“That’s not really what I meant,” Percy hangs his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees. 

“Well, I’m a kleptomaniac, so...yeah,” Luke says, unsure of how else you’re supposed to have this discussion with someone. It’s not like as if it’s as awkward as the sex talk or as somber as the “we need to talk” talk, but still. It’s definitely got some shock value and devastation in its own right. There should seriously be a manual for this shit. After all, there’s all kinds of reading material on how to break-up with someone or how to pick a lock. Just not so much on how to tell people that you pick locks for leisure. 

“Wait. You’re—You’re a klepto?” Percy ask, raising his head and looking at Luke straight-on. 

“Yeah, you know, I steal shit,” Luke states.

“Yeah, yeah, I know what a kleptomaniac is. I’m just not sure what to do with that,” Percy says, shaking his head and standing. As he walks over to Luke, he asks, “So, is that why you stole my sociology book—which you have yet to return to me, by the way—and like seventeen other things in the course of the week?”

Luke nods, “You counted?” 

Percy nods back. 

“Well, damn. You’re good, kid,” Luke says. “So, if we’re done now...,” Luke heads for his bag and plans on making an escape, but before he can, Percy grabs his arm and stops him. 

“No, no, I don’t think so. You broke in here, and you’ve got a lot of explaining to do still. Like why you broke in here in the first place, and you can bet that you’ll be emptying your pockets and your bag before I let you leave,” Percy says, but before Luke can even open his mouth, likely to weasel his way out of the situation, the front door of the apartment opens and closes. Both boys look at each other questioningly, Percy knowing that the only person he knows how would enter without permission is standing in front of him and Luke knowing from his planning stages that nobody else should be home either.

They stand like for a few more moments, entirely still, their eyes searching the others and then shifting off to the side as the listen closely with Percy’s hand still on Luke’s arm, just below the rolled-up sleeve of his button-down uniform shirt. 

“Percy, honey, are you home?” a woman’s voice seems to fill the air loudly, probably from their abrupt silence. 

Before Percy can even think about telling Luke to  _go, in the closet, out the window_ , he responds, “Yeah, in here, Mom.” 

Then when Percy lends the subject more thought, he figures that it would’ve seemed rather scandalous, telling Luke to hide in his closet or jump out the window. They aren’t having an affair, after all. But just before his mother pushes the door open a few more inches from it’s still half-open position, Percy presses his hand firmly against Luke’s chest and pushes, after finally realizing how close they are and how suspicious this all seems. 

Percy shucks his shirt entirely, pretending to be grabbing another shirt from his dresser as his mother sticks her head in. “Oh, there you are. Why aren’t you at swim practice?” 

“Oh, wasn’t feeling up to it today? Long week, yeah. And I told coach I was probably staying after tomorrow’s session for a bit of dry-land training so he cleared it,” Percy answers, pulling his shirt over his head. 

Luke notices that it musses Percy’s shaggy black hair, and he almost thinks for a moment that Percy’s mother will fix it for him. She doesn’t, and Luke has to fight the urge to do so himself. 

“Alright, and oh, who’s this? I don’t believe we’ve met?” Percy’s mother says, extending her hand to Luke. 

Percy spins around, “Oh, right, Mom, this is Luke. He’s new at school, and Luke, this is my mom, Sally.”

After they shake hands, Percy and Luke stand side by side, eyeing up Mrs. Jackson. Percy scratches at the back of his neck uncomfortably, “So, what are you doing home so early?” Luke clears his throat. 

Sally, not noticing the clear tension and awkwardness of the situation that the boys are creating, responds with, “I just told the assistant manager to take over and close up for the night.”

Percy nods and Luke nods and they both clear their throats at practically the exact same time. 

“Well, Luke, it’s so nice to meet you,” Sally says, heading for the door. Just as she’s about to leave, she rests a hand on the doorjamb, the other on the door handle, “Percy, would you want to have you friend stay for dinner tonight?”

Caught off guard and mentally debating if Luke can be classified as a “friend” per se, Percy stumbles through a, “He’s not really my friend,” while Luke’s face spreads into a smile with a, “I would love to stay for dinner. Thanks so much, Mrs. Jackson.”

Luke’s charming smile that apparently even wins over the parents overpowers Percy’s mumbling, and Sally smiles, leaving with a, “Wonderful! You like tilapia?” 

-

If Percy thinks Luke’s usual amount of charm is too much to take, he is horribly wrong, as he finds out during dinner that night. 

What is normally half an hour of Percy and his mother chatting casually is now his mother fawning over Luke in such a clichéd way that Percy’s stomach threatens to reject the fish and vegetables that his mother made for dinner. 

Luke flashes his too-white smile the entire time, and it seems like Sally laughs the whole night. Even after they’ve finished their dinners, they all sit at the table, Sally listening to Luke tell stories and talk about his life as the two of them get to know each other. 

Percy could’ve used that to his advantage, to learn more about the kleptomaniac who is now threatening life as he knows it, but instead, Percy sulks inwardly for most of the meal. He rolls his eyes when he can, but remains cordial and almost happy during the rest of the dinner. 

It’s only when Luke finally says that he should be getting home and leaving Percy to his normal Friday night plans that Sally lets him go, even sending him home with some of the leftovers. She even offers up, “Luke, dear, you’re welcome here any time, don’t hesitate to stop by, okay?”

She smiles in that motherly way, as if she’s making him promise that he’ll stop by and eat her home-cooked meals and let her fawn over him like a second son and  _fuck_ , this kid hasn’t even been around for more than a week and already his mother is freeing up a spot on the family tree?

Luke, with a beaming smile at Percy, replies, “Oh, you’re too kind, Mrs. Jackson. I’ll keep that in mind, though. I mean, your cooking is wonderful, after all.” As Luke turns to smile sweetly once more at Sally, Percy attempts to kill Luke with a glare, hoping that he can finally manage to destroy someone with the power of a furious stare that culminates itself into actual lasers. Naturally, Percy fails. 

However, before Luke can leave, he’s being dragged, literally dragged by his shirt, to Percy’s room. As soon as Percy’s door is shut behind them both, Percy orders him to answer a few more questions. 

Since it’s seven o’clock already and Percy’s still dressed in a t-shirt and his school slacks, feeling awfully out of place, he begins to change with Luke still in the room, although he decides to change behind the door of his closet and one of those small, folded room dividers. Bad move. 

As Percy begins, “What the hell was that? I mean, you seriously just charmed the hell out of my mother, and we’re not even friends...,” Percy trails off, bending over to grab the pair of sweatpants off of the floor. 

Luke takes the opportunity to say, “We’re not?” all the while, quietly as possible pulling Percy’s sociology book out of his messenger bag where it’s been residing for the past few days. If only Percy had known to look in plain sight...

It takes Percy forever to change, which Luke had anticipated, since he’s also shedding his socks and smoothly his hair down in the mirror by his closet only to mess it up again. 

Luke grabs a small scrap of paper from his bag and a pen, scribbling down a quick apology of sorts. A typical kind of Luke apology that is only an apology in a backwards kind of way, but one that makes Luke smirk nonetheless, which will without a doubt make Percy sigh and roll his eyes, his shoulders rising and falling with even careful, calming breath. 

As Percy continues, “No, we’re not, and you weren’t even supposed to be here today, but you know you just had to break into my apartment...,” Luke grabs Percy’s cell phone from its spot on Percy’s bed where it had carelessly fallen out of his bag earlier that afternoon. 

Quickly, Luke puts his number in Percy’s phone and adjusting each of the speed-dial numbers so that Luke’s at the top. He did his homework, and his prank is going to piss Percy off not too much, but enough for a good laugh. 

While Percy finishes with, “...and speaking of all of this, you still need to tell me why you broke in my place,” Luke grabs his bag and silently mouths a thank you to the universe that Percy never shut his window from earlier that afternoon. Opening it again would’ve been too much of a gamble, too noisy. 

Luke slips out with ease this time, plate of food in hand as well and a coy smile on the edges of his lips. 

When there’s no response, Percy steps around the divider and sees that Luke’s gone. 

He should’ve seen that one coming.

Luke’s already on the ground and jogging away when Percy finally realizes to check his fire escape, the curtains blowing in the evening breeze of the city. 

Percy’s hand flies to his face and he shakes his head, his toes running over the rough edges of the hardwood floor anxiously. He watches Luke run and can even hear the sound of his shoes on the sidewalk, a sound that Percy’s managed to single out despite all of the noises of New York City on a Friday night. For a moment, he entertains the thought of chasing after him, but it’s only a waste of his time. Luke has the head-start and the advantage of being a practiced criminal, apparently. 

But then, there’s also Percy’s black, hardback sociology textbook sitting in the middle of his full-sized bed, a piece of paper with ragged, torn edges on it. 

The handwriting has to be Luke’s, Percy assumes; it fits his personality. A bit sloppy or rough around the edges, a bit enthusiastic and scribbled quickly with some kind of impish urgency, a bit charming like you want to know the person behind the writing. A bit of all of that and just all of Luke condescended into a sentence of written word. 

It takes Percy a few seconds longer than most people to decipher it, no thanks to Luke’s hurried writing.   
 _  
Good things come to those who wait._  

Percy almost chuckles. Hell, he does, but it’s more of a good-humored scoff, an exhalation of breath that anyone else would consider a laugh. Percy tries to call it anything but. 

Shaking his head, he smiles to himself, a genuine smile, and wonders if this is a thief’s sign of good faith.

-

Percy’s got to be careful, because he’s starting to get an unfortunate reputation. This would be the second weekend in a row that he declines going to a party or other social function that it’s almost law that he must make an appearance at. 

His track record for the summer will hopefully carry over long enough for Percy to maintain his social status, just until this Luke dilemma blows over. 

It’s not like his social status is that incredibly important; it’s just that he would like to have  _some_  friends left after all of this is said and done, because at this rate, Luke’s going to scare them all away, Percy fears. 

Luke’s already talked to Nico, who was probably confused but unconcerned. As it is, Nico can talk the ear off of any one; while Percy calls it a potential nuisance, Nico insists that it’s a marketable talent in today’s world because being social means having contacts and having contacts means having a future. 

There’s an entire rant on how being talkative, personable, and outgoing are three of the most useful traits in the business economy of today. It’s really rather ironic. 

If Nico didn’t scare Luke away, then Percy’s pretty sure that none of his other friends will even seem remotely difficult to approach. Grover might also talk Luke’s ear off about the best way to go about saving the rainforests, and the whales, and the ozone layer, and the great apes’ rights, and the oil reserves and the—

Annabeth, actually, might be more of a challenge, which Percy is thankful for. While Grover could dish the most information on Percy, that’s only if he manages to get off the topic of the environment. But Annabeth, yeah, she’s a tougher egg to crack, especially since things between her and Luke might be a bit tense. 

Maybe, with any luck, she’ll keep her distance and her mouth shut. Hopefully. 

She’s the last person that Percy wants to talk to Luke, not because she’s got the most embarrassing stories to tell about Percy or even that many important facts about him, just that she’s the one thing that Luke might be able to exploit. The on and off again relationship that Percy and her have is definitely something would interest Luke and his kleptomaniac nose that’s always putting itself where it doesn’t belong. 

Percy can imagine the harassment now, all of the comments and that godforsaken smirk. God, that smirk. 

Moving on...(Percy’s blaming the ADHD for this.) There’s Thalia, and Percy’s willing to bet that she’s even tougher to get to open up than Annabeth, but then again, she’s also got a bit more of a temper than Annabeth. Maybe Luke won’t want to deal with that? 

Percy goes through the rest of his friends and acquaintances, figuring out who the weak links are, because Luke can—no doubt—figure that out for himself. 

He mulls it over for a while longer, watching the sun set behind an apartment building next to his. He decides that his reputation should remain intact until he’s figured out how to deal with Luke. 

The night is shaping up to be another Blockbuster and take-out evening, and oddly enough, Percy is okay with that. As long as Luke isn’t involved in that equation. 

You would think that after learning that there are actually kleptomaniacs in the world, Percy would learn to look over his shoulder sometimes. Of course, there’s got to be an adjustment period, time to let all of this new-found knowledge sink in and ruminate until it affects your behavior. But still. 

Even with dyslexia, Percy is a rather bright kid; he can put two and two together. He should’ve tossed a glance over his shoulder as soon as he left the lobby of his apartment building. He doesn’t. 

He doesn’t see the blond-haired, sparkling-eyed boy follow him, a few casual paces behind him the entire way to Blockbuster.

-

Except Luke somehow is involved in the equation. All Percy can think as he sees Luke enter Blockbuster a few minutes after himself is the mental version of a dreadful sigh. For a few seconds, he entertains the thought of hiding, you know, finding some nice spot behind a rack of movies and just shooting the shit there until Luke leaves. It might be a pathetic, last-resort kind of move, but at this point, Percy doesn’t much care. 

Except, before the thought that gives him permission to make such a cowardly evasion can fully form in his mind, Luke’s nudging him in the side, his elbow crooked outward. 

It’s in this moment that Percy decides there is a god, but he’s a cruel one. Or maybe there are multiple ones, since no one god could possibly be this cruel. No. There must be an entire brigade of toga-clad Greek gods who love to get their amusement from the woes of a suffering sixteen-year-old city kid. He can practically picture it now, the twelve Olympians, sitting on their thrones above the world and chuckling at this mere mortal suffering a fate worse than that of Greek hero whose story goes wrong. 

Percy bets that Hermes especially is getting a real kick out of this. God of thieves and all...

And then he also considers dropping his Advanced Greek Mythology course for this semester since last year’s basic course was apparently too much for him and his fantasy-prone, ADHD mind. 

Falling back into reality, Percy hears, “Heya, Perce, fancy seeing you here.” Luke grabs a DVD case off of the shelf, just like last time, pretending to be mildly fascinated by the movie. 

Not missing a beat, Percy adds, “Right, because it’s a complete coincidence that you should happen to be at the exact same Blockbuster as me at the exact same time.” He’s both surprised and proud at himself and the ease with which he brushes off Luke’s presence. 

Luke feigns innocence, “I know, right! It must be fate, like we were talking about at lunch that one day. I mean, there are something like thirty Blockbusters in Manhattan alone, aren’t there?”

Percy stutters, “I—I don’t know?”

Luke continues, “It’s crazy to think that we ended up here  _again_  for the second Saturday in a row. You must have a ritual or something.”

Shaking his head, Percy says, “I don’t.”

Luke sighs, “Oh, then see. It is fate.”

“One question, and really, it only needs a simple answer, and while this is probably opening a can of worms because you likely will  _not_  give me a simple answer at all, I still have to ask because you know curiosity is a bitch and all that, but: Of all the thirty-some Blockbusters in Manhattan alone—as you just mentioned—why this one? You’ve got quite a selection of movie rental places to choose from, and yet, you’re always at this one. Why?” Percy realizes at the end of his long-winded question that two Saturdays in a row hardly counts as “always” and that the same could be said for himself...except he’s not a crazy kleptomaniac. 

Luke twirls the DVD, index fingers on opposite corners of the case, “I guess I was just drawn here tonight, you know?”

“No, no, I don’t know. I do know that you’ve already broken into my apartment and tailed me before, so why bother changing habit now?” Percy asks, almost nonchalantly, picking up another movie and examining the picture before even bothering with trying to read the description on the back. 

Luke watches him, opening his mouth to tell him that the movie isn’t worth Percy’s Saturday night, but he figures that Percy wouldn’t listen to him anyway. “I see that you’ve realized that changing habit is not in my, well, habits, but you also seem to have neglected to consider that this is the closest Blockbuster to my apartment, as well.” 

The movie is no longer even remotely interesting to Percy, and he redirects his short attention span to Luke, sizes him up with a curious look. “Why don’t I believe you?”

Luke’s straight face breaks out into a smile, “Because this one is actually four blocks from my house, and there’s a different Blockbuster three blocks in the opposite direction.” Percy opens his mouth to interject, but Luke raises a finger, begging for one more moment of his time. “But there was an accident on the end of my street right at the corner where I need to turn to head to the closer Blockbuster, and thus, the universe diverted me to  _this_  Blockbuster, where you just so happened to be.”

Rolling his eyes, Percy grumbles, “And now you think this is just another act of fate, am I right?”

There’s a short nod because that’s all that’s needed. “Would you just hear me out?” Luke asks.

Percy sighs as if it’s a chore and scans the store to distract himself, “You’ve got five minutes because that’s all my attention span can take, and that’s only if I’m being generous, so get talking.”

Luke looks around as he gathers his thought, surveying the store without realizing he’s doing so, and this is followed by a deep intake of breath before he begins. “There are some thirty or so Blockbusters in Manhattan, as we’ve just established. Do you know how many schools there are? No? Well, neither do I to be absolutely honest, but I’d imagine there are a few. Now, I’ve been kicked out of nine private schools and six public schools. I could name them all, but I won’t, especially since some are upstate and even up-coast a bit more, because would you know that some schools aren’t too keen on accepting a teenage boy with a criminal record that has yet to be expunged and is known for the havoc he wreaks? I didn’t. I do now, though. Because Olympian Academy accepted me, but only after an entire summer of interview sessions with the school psychiatrist and headmaster.”

As if he notices that Percy’s losing interest with each passing word, Luke jumps back on the path to his actual point. “Oh, right, so, there are a ton of schools I could be attending right now, some of them even could’ve been those institutes for troubled youths, but I’m not. I’m attending Olympian Academy because something in the universe decided that I should have another chance. Granted, it’s my sixteenth chance and not my second, but that’s where you come in.”

“The first day of school, I didn’t expect to go as smoothly as it did—“ 

Percy cannot help but interrupt him at this. “Smoothly?! You call that smoothly?” 

Luke simply nods, continuing, “How many kids are there that attend our school?” Luke doesn’t wait for an answer, he doesn’t actually need one. 

“No, that doesn’t even matter. All you need to think of is how many different kids it could’ve been sitting on the front steps of the school at the same time that I was hanging around outside until the start of first block. Except it was you that was there.”

Luke stops speaking for a moment, his eyes fall distantly away from their conversation and the building. “Anyway, I would just like to point out that you didn’t have to chase me either. You could’ve just let me get away with your book. It wasn’t entirely necessary to look for me and then decide to run. I would’ve returned it eventually...maybe. I didn’t force you to stay and have a snarky conversation with me the first time we met.”

Percy objects once more, “Except you did because you refused to give me my book back until I told you I was dyslexic, and  _even then_ , you didn’t give it back.”

Shrugging, Luke says, “You’ve got it back now.” When Percy doesn’t say anything and crosses his arms anxiously, Luke adds to his argument, “You could’ve rented a different movie, you could’ve told the administration that they would need to find me a different escort just like Annabeth did, you could’ve called the cops when I broke in, you could’ve told your mom the truth about me. You could’ve done a lot of things, Percy, but you didn’t. And sure, actions speak louder than words, but sometimes inactions do too.”

Silence falls over them, the chaos the Blockbuster apart, and when a stranger approaches the shelf behind Percy, Luke reaches for Percy’s upper arms and pulls him closer and out of the way. Graciously, however, Luke takes a step back for each one that Percy stumbles forward, having almost lost his balance. 

It’s subtle and small and nothing but politeness, but it makes Percy draw his eyebrows together in interested acknowledgment of the fact. 

Luke doesn’t notice this train of though given that he’s watching the store again, and he decides that their lingering isn’t helping the crowded, hectic matter in any way. 

“Look, the point is, I could be going to a number of different private schools right now, it could’ve been anybody else sitting in front of the school, a number of different scenarios could’ve played out after I stole your book. Except, it wasn’t anybody else. It was you. And you decided to chase me.” Percy keeps his mouth shut, shockingly not searching for anything sarcastic to bite back with.

“There are lot of fucking people in this city,” Luke jerks his head in the direction of the crowds of people currently attempting to occupy the same plots of space. “I could be tormenting anybody else into friendship right now. But it isn’t anyone, it’s you.”

“You were the one so dazedly sitting on the front steps of the school, practically begging me to steal from you—“

For the third time, Percy cuts in, “I do not believe I was in any way begging you to steal something from me.”

Luke chuckles at Percy’s certainty, and his breath tickles on the side of Percy’s neck since they’ve been slowly cornered against the back wall by the influx of people. 

“Not in any way that you were aware of. And hush, I  _am_  trying to make a point here. My point is that maybe it was just meant to be you. All along, and that’s...that’s my point.”

There are a few moments of silence; Percy comes to the conclusion that snark and sarcasm are not the best responses to this particular situation, oddly enough.

“Here, this is about destiny, sort of, even if it’s not the best movie,” Luke hands him a DVD case, one that’s been in his hands the entire time.

Almost as soon as Luke finishes his sentence, and perhaps even before that, Percy groans, “Destiny? We’ve already got fate, and now destiny? What’s next? Karma?” As he struggles to read the title, numbers added into the dance as well, Luke tells him that it’s called  _The Number 23_  before he continues to address Percy’s ill-disguised complaint. 

With that practically permanent smirk, Luke adds, “Perhaps, although I must say, the movie is about destiny, and while there are a few different views that could be argued from it, there’s really only one that it’s important right now. It’s that no matter how much you can run and hide from your destiny or even start anew, it’ll always be there, even if it haunts your ass forever. Just lemme tell you, Perce: I’m a loyal kind of person, severely so. That makes me either the best friend or the worst enemy. Take some time to think about which one you’d want me to be in regards to you.”

Shrugging his shoulders casually as the words hold no weight, “I don’t believe in destiny, Luke. Or fate for that matter. There’s no such thing as fate or destiny or any of that. Only choices.”

Ducking his head and pulling something out of his pocket, Luke bids his goodbye, “Then I guess that makes the next move yours, Jackson.” As he shuffles past Percy, he shoves the object in Percy’s hand and whispers in his ear, “I bet you didn’t even notice this was missing.” 

Percy wraps his hand around it, the shape of it imprinting itself in his carefully closed palm does not give any clues as to its nature.

After he’s gone, Percy uncurls his fingers, looking at the heart-shaped shell his father had given him over the summer. 

He stands there for a few minutes, the shell in one open, palm-up hand in front of him and a movie case in the other hand, hanging by his side. When he leaves, it’s done with a renewed style of determination, of focus—the shell tucked in his zip-up jacket pocket and the movie in his left hand. 

Halfway home, Percy realizes that he didn’t even comment when Luke went over his allotted five minutes.

-

The following week goes by in an uneventful manner, surprisingly. The two of them go on about their days as if nothing too out of the ordinary happened between them, as if Luke didn’t break in on Friday and as if they didn’t have a conversation that could be taken as too serious to happen in a busy Blockbuster on a Saturday night. 

There’s still something lying under the surface though, but it’s not the tension and the anxious awaiting of something to snap like in most cases. They aren’t waiting for the fall-out this time. 

Both boys can feel the small shifting of themselves toward one another, more subtly than Luke’s previous torment of Percy. This time, the thing beneath the surface is the ticking clock. It’s not a ticking bomb counting down to disaster. It’s counting down to the time when all the locks click open as they give way to an automatic timer, pre-determined schedule that designates the natural timing of the world. 

Luke’s waiting for Percy to make his move, and Percy’s thinking. And once he’s done thinking, he starts waiting. They’re both just waiting, and while Luke’s waiting for Percy, Percy’s waiting for the right time to make his move. He’s waiting for the clock to run of time to stall and click open the locks so that it just flows out uninhibited.

It’s a long wait. Or maybe they’re just impatient.

-

Grover is usually the one to call Percy, which is an instrumental fact of information that Luke already knows as he waits for Percy to call Grover...or try to call Grover that is. 

When he finally does, it’s the Wednesday afternoon after Luke’s speech on that Saturday night. The occurrence momentarily breaks the nervous, buzzing excitement that has been humming beneath their skin since Saturday, and it even returns Percy to the feeling of Luke and his pranks. For the moment, Percy even feels nostalgic, and  _fuck_ , nostalgia? He’s only known Luke for almost two weeks, and is it even possible to feel nostalgia like that because it  _feels_  like Percy’s known him for an eternity at this point. Maybe it feels like he’s known him  _too long_ , but Percy disregards that thought.

Immediately after school and once the boys have parted ways, Percy is calling his first speed-dial, expecting Grover to pick up.

Luke waits two rings before picking up, and when he does, Percy doesn’t even wait for a greeting before he starts talking. “I’m gonna need your sociology notes for the past week, like, as soon as I get in the door. Actually, I needed them like a week ago, but that’s not the point. How fast can you be at my apartment?”

There’s a silence, broken by Luke clicking his tongue amusedly against the roof of his mouth, and the sound resonates through Percy’s bloodstream. By that alone, he’s aware of what just happened. 

“I didn’t actually realize that we’d scheduled a study date, Perce, nor that you’d want me in your apartment after what happened last time...” Luke trails off, the delight clear in his voice.

The reaction is rather similar to that of when Luke was partway out of Percy’s window. It’s a few seconds of silence before the long yelling and ranting. This time, however, Luke isn’t quite as amused. Now, it’s somewhat tiring, in fact, and Luke is almost certain that the other people on the street do not appreciate his ranting and raving, which Luke informs Percy of...as soon as Percy pauses to breathe for two seconds.

“You know something, as much as I didn’t much appreciate that, I doubt that the strangers on the sidewalk with you appreciated that at all,” Luke mutters, readjusting his bag on his shoulder, “Although, I do have decent sociology notes, if you’d still like them.”

Unsure of how to handle the situation, Percy mumbles a, “No thanks, I’ll figure something out, see you at school,” and hangs up.

-

Later that afternoon, as Percy slaves over Grover’s notebook, he casually brings the topic of Luke up in conversation. He’s not quite sure why he brings Luke up because it’s not like he wants to talk about him. No, not at all. And yet, he does.

“No, no, I swear to you, Grove, the kid is crazy,” is mumbled around a mouthful of sandwich. Grover looks up from his textbook, and there’s disbelief etched on his face. 

“He can’t be that bad, Percy,” he insists. 

“Oh, yes, he can. He broke into my apartment!” Percy throws his hands in the air, trying to convey his distraught emotions through hand gestures. “He’s going to be the death of me.”

At that, Grover puts down his pen and moves forward on the stool he’s sitting on at the counter. “That’s not funny, Percy, because like, what if he doesn’t cut apart those little plastic rings that six packs of bottles of pop come in? Because then he really could be the death of tons of marine animals, and I doubt that they’re laughing now that they’re dead...”

Grover looks at Percy, half serious and half not, but it doesn’t really matter because either way, Grover just isn’t getting it.

-

Percy’s first thought is a quite obscene resignation. His second is “Jesus, how fast can this kid run?” because really? It is so much to ask that he come home to the couch and the television on one of the Fridays he has off from swim practice? 

Apparently so, if Luke has any say in the matter. And of course, Luke wants a say in the matter, and clearly, he is willing to resort to illegal means to justify the end. 

“Now, ‘Percy,’” Luke mumbles thoughtfully, around a mouthful of brownies as he is slouched down on Percy’s couch with his sock-clad feet on the coffee table. “Is that, like, short for Percival or Perseus?” 

He has the television remote in one hand and a brownie in the other while the plate of brownies rests on his lap. 

Percy turns his head, seeing Luke’s shoes carelessly strewn in the front hall of his apartment, and as he walks further inside, he sees Luke’s messenger bag propped against the kitchen island on the floor. His uniform blazer is draped over the back of the couch. 

“Is this going to become a force of habit?” Percy finds himself asking without necessarily hoping in his mind that Luke will say no.

“Are you going to make it necessary?” Luke asks back, and for a moment, there’s a bit of silent tension. The situation is already approaching awkward, and neither of them is too fond of that happening. 

“Y’know, nobody likes a person who answers a question with another question,” Percy says, rolling his eyes but inwardly sighing a breath of relief; the tension lets up a little. 

The ensuing laugh that Luke offers is almost contagious, almost, and Percy finds himself grinning as Luke says, “It’s part of my charm, though.”

“Right, and does that charm come into play before or after you routinely break into someone’s home?” Percy questions, and oddly enough, he finds that his tone is joking instead of biting. 

Luke mock-ponders this for a moment before taking another bite of the brownie in his hand. “...Usually after, but lucky you, you’ve got to see the charm since day one.”

He follows that up with a large smile, beaming up at Percy, and it’s a good thing that Percy’s standing near the island counter. Because he soon finds that his hip falls against the counter and his hand finds purchase on the tiled edge. Not that he’s admitting to anything. 

Everybody loses their balance sometimes.

Right. 

Seeming to not notice, Luke flips through the guide on Percy’s television and adjusting his legs so they cross at the ankles. “I swear, having hundreds of channels is entirely pointless if none of them play anything worthwhile. Shame you weren’t here sooner; there was a special on sea life on the Discovery Channel, quite riveting if you ask me,” Luke says nonchalantly, settling on one of the many sports channels. 

“What are you doing here, Luke?” Percy asks, pushing himself to a stand and walking away from the counter, toward the couch. 

Luke shrugs, playing with the rolled sleeves of his uniform button-down, “I got bored,” and really, he’s not fooling either of them.

Percy scoffs amusedly, “What happened to ‘next move is mine’?”

“You, of all people, should know by now that I’m known for my annoying persistence,” Luke says, holding out the plate to offer Percy a brownie. 

Percy then wonders what he shakes his head in response to and watches Luke move forward, setting the plate on the coffee table without moving his feet. As he settles back on couch again, he offers Percy the remote this time. 

When Percy neither takes the remote nor comments at all, Luke turns to him, and Percy’s face is characterized by curiosity. There’s mix of concern and disbelief and about five other things that Luke cannot properly place, and he won’t even suggest to himself that there’s hope in that expression. Because if there isn’t, that’d just be cruel to himself, Luke thinks. 

“What are you doing here, Luke?” Percy asks once more, perhaps hoping for a proper response and perhaps not. He can’t be certain what he wants, what he expects anymore. He’s finding that, maybe with Luke, it’s best not to want or expect anything; it’s easier to just wait, take whatever comes his way, and cross every bridge when he gets to it. 

“Alright.” Luke hits the mute button and stretches forward so that the remote joins the plate of brownies on the table in front of him. “Remember the last time I broke in?” 

A beat. Then Luke wonders why he actually phrased that as a question and waited for a response because hello, of course Percy’s going to remember shit like that. And Percy’s “are you serious?” face is concurring with Luke’s thoughts. 

Waving his hands around and scrambling to re-organize his thoughts, he says, “Okay, whatever, of  _course_  you remember that...I mean, it wasn’t even that long ago, and well, how could you forget?” Despite himself, Percy finds himself smiling at Luke’s scatterbrained ramble. 

“Anyway, I was the thinking the other day, and well...I got caught.” 

The way Luke says this, Percy wonders if he’s supposed to say something back because the look on Luke’s face tells him that it’s a pretty big deal. 

“Are you just now realizing this or...?” Percy questions, furrowing his brows and sitting down on the couch, momentarily dumbstruck. Even in his confusion, though, he takes care to not sit too close to Luke. 

“Well, no, but I mean...that’s a first,” Luke mutters, wrinkling his forehead. 

For a moment, it’s silent, and because Luke muted the television, the silence is much stronger than either of them could’ve   
anticipated. 

Percy thinks on this for a moment before saying, “I-I’m not...following right now.”

And all of sudden, Luke sits up, his legs curling beneath him on the couch, and the only thought in Percy’s mind for a moment is that he hopes he didn’t flinch back at Luke’s unexpected movement. 

“That’s a first! I’ve never been caught before, Perce. But that day, I made two mistakes.  _Two_.”

With certainty, Percy can say that he’s looking at Luke like he has three heads because Luke’s got this crazed and wild look in his eyes. And if he’s being honest, Percy is trying to even breathe as quietly as possible for fear of what any sudden movement might do to Luke. 

“Oh, okay,” Percy whispers, still unsure where Luke’s going with this. But when he turns to face Percy, his eyes dancing with mischief now instead, Percy wants to bury his face in his hands. “Wait. No. Not this again.”

“Oh yes, this again,” Luke starts, and even in the short time that Percy’s known Luke, he can tell that he’s about to go off on another tangent. “Trust me, I’m a damn good thief. I don’t make mistakes, ever, and I’ve never been caught befor—”

“—had to happen sometime,” Percy interjects. Part of him wants to also intercede with a comment about how it doesn’t mean anything, how everything between them has been a long string of events and coincidences that happen to pull together some semblance of an acquaintanceship between the two of them. But he doesn’t, and while Luke doesn’t realize that this inaction also means something (because, well, how could he unless he was in Percy’s head too, which okay, that’s a line even Luke can’t cross even if he wanted to), Percy does take note of this, choking back any other comment. 

“Sure, but it happened with  _you_. And I’ve never made any mistakes before, and that time? I made  _two_. Two incredibly rookies mistakes that I would never make. It’s fate,” Luke decides with more finality in his voice than Percy’s heard in a long time, moving back on the couch and relaxing once again. 

Before Percy can think about what he’s saying—and let’s be honest, he’s not very good with that whole “think before you speak thing” because what teenage boy is?—he is already saying, “If I give this friendship thing a shot, will you shut up about fate already?”

For a moment, Percy finds himself thinking that if he knew that the expression on Luke’s face was the reaction he’d get to those words, he might’ve said them days ago, but that thought is cute short by Luke’s eager words.

“Wait, seriously?” he asks Percy, his eyes alight and his lips shaping into a dangerously happy smile that threatens to consume Luke’s entire face. 

Percy chuckles, ducking his head and scratching the back of his neck in probably the universal move of an awkward and shy boy stuck in a situation that could easily go wrong. “I’ll think about it,” he says, lifting his head and looking up at Luke.  
Who is still smiling, and for fuck’s sake, Percy almost wants to see the smirk again instead because nobody should be this happy, especially when Percy didn’t even say yes. He doesn’t know what to do next. 

Nodding, Luke stands, brushing crumbs off of his uniform slacks, “Okay, in that case,  _now_  the next move is yours.” He smiles as he walks over to the front hall, bending over to slip on his shoes but not bothering to tie them. 

Percy, having followed him, cocks an eyebrow disbelieving and, with a half-smirk on his face, asks, “For real this time?”  
Luke laughs, and it’s a breathy exhalation accompanied by a smile instead of an  _laugh_  if one really thinks about it. Not like Percy has...is. 

“Maybe. We’ll see, I guess,” Luke stumbles, and as he slings his back over his shoulder, he stops, spins, and scampers back to grab another brownie. “Seriously, these things are addictive, and I’m not talking about pot-brownies kind of addictive either.” 

Percy watches in uneasy silence as Luke re-adjusts his back, bids him goodbye, and leaves, carefully shutting the door behind him. 

In the hallway, Luke stumbles over his untied laces, and as he does, it dawns on him that Percy never answered his initial question. His next thought is that it’s damn inconvenient that Percy has dyslexia, which would make texting difficult most likely. And if Luke hadn’t almost-promised that Percy that the next move was his, he would call him up and ask if it was Perseus or Percival, but shrugging it off, he decides that he should probably give the poor kid a break from his shenanigans already.

And part of him is genuinely curious about what Percy’s move is going to be. If he decides to make one.

And part of him is actually worried that he won’t.

-

It’s really not like Percy to be so phased by something like this. Really, it’s not. He promises. But sometimes, there’s nothing you can do about the obnoxious (and albeit, occasionally entertaining) parasites in your life. 

His hand still rests against the door, sliding it down slowly until it rests by his side, and he shuffles over to the kitchen with his body moving on auto-pilot. He grabs a drink from the fridge, sets it on the island, and heads off to retrieve the plate of brownies from the coffee table. He doesn’t bother to turn of the television, but he does opt to un-mute it because the apartment has a weird feel to it, silent as it is, and it’s not helping Percy any. 

He sits at the island, eating a brownie while he gives everything a fair bit of thought. The next move is his, but he’s not entirely sure what to do with that. 

There’s the first question that needs answered: Does he even care that the next move is? Is he going to  _actually_  take Luke up on his friendship offer? 

Maybe that’s not the best idea, Percy thinks, but for unconventional reasons that make him frown for a moment. Because the first thing he thinks is that he shouldn’t take Luke up on that offer of friendship because what if the guy gets the convoluted impression that’s okay to pressure someone into friendship like he has, since clearly the law is not deterring him at all anyway.

Does he truly want to be Luke’s friend though? Does he really want to sign up for whatever bullshit comes along with the contract?

But then again, whatever arrangement they have worked out by now is almost reminiscent of a friendship, if Percy thinks about, which he’d rather not. He’s pretty certain that Luke knows where everything in the school is by now, and yet, they still walk to class together most days. Every lunch break is spent with Luke when it’s not spent at an environmental lecture with Grover, and Luke’s somehow wormed his way into sitting on the steps with Percy and Grover in the mornings. Grover doesn’t seem to mind, but the important thing is that Percy never noticed. 

Already, Luke’s probably around him enough to be considered a “friend,” but even so, Luke’s...asking permission? Which is fucking unusual since he’s not asking permission to break in and steal brownies...or books or heart-shaped shells either, for that matter.

Granted, most of the moments they are together in school are spent over conversations about classes and snarky banter (on Percy’s part, anyway) and witty charm (on Luke’s, of course). Even so, it’s unusual how easily Percy has rearranged his life to make room for Luke without realizing it. 

He wonders how he could’ve overlooked this so carelessly, and he drums his fingertips on the tiled counter as he questions if they are just acquaintances or if they’re tipping the scale closer to friends. Percy, reluctantly, figures that they can be considered friends if one uses the loosest possible definition of friends.

For a single second, Percy thinks about calling up Grover to ask his opinion, but he decides against it, not in search of a quick (or most likely, a not-so-quick) conversation about the depleting ozone layer or the oil-spill in the gulf. 

Annabeth was another option, but Percy’s been trying to avoid her as best he can lately. He’s never sure of where they stand or what to say to her, and right now, he feels like he needs to put all of his spare energy on resolving the Luke Crisis, which has now been placed at the top of his to-do list. And yeah, it’s been officially deemed a Crisis with a capital C. 

Percy hardly ever has overwhelming reserves of patience sitting around, and now is not really one of those times, even if he does give himself the credit he deserves for handling today’s situation with grace and ease. He doesn’t have the patience to hang around and debate on the best way to deal with Annabeth. 

He hardly has the desire to figure out what to do about Luke, but enough’s enough, and the next move is his.

It’s about time he decides on what he’s going to do, and when SportsCenter replays a highlight of the latest football game, the cheering crowd is enough to refocus his attention on the real world, and the fact that his cell phone is ringing. 

Shaking his head and standing up to pull his phone from his pocket as quickly as he can, he realizes that he spent an entire ten minutes thinking about the Luke situation, and for a kid with ADHD, that’s a short eternity. 

“Hello?” he asks, hoping it’s not who he fears it might be.

“Hey, honey, I should be home in a few minutes if I can get somebody to watch the store and close up for the night, and I thought I’d let you know,” his mother says, and Percy lets out a short breath of relief. “Oh, and before I forget, Nico stopped in just a little bit ago, and he was wondering if you wanted to do something after swim practice again tomorrow.” 

“Thanks, mom, I’ll give him a call. See you soon, love you,” he mumbles hurriedly, shutting his phone after his mother follows up with her own, “love you too.”

Nico. That’s it. Nico will know what to do. And he won’t ask questions.

When Percy’s mother comes home, ten minutes later, she finds Percy still perched on a stool by the island, three brownies missing from the plate and an empty can of Coke in front of him. 

She goes through the usually formalities before asking if he’s alright: how was school, any plans for the weekend, what do you want for dinner? Because yeah, it’s normal to find Percy staring off into space frequently, but not with the look of intense concentration that’s currently etched on his face. 

“Yeah, no, I’m fine,” Percy says, standing up and unbuttoning his blazer, which is just another one of those things that is messed up because of Luke. He never keeps his uniform on longer that he has to, especially on a Friday.

His mother moves to turn off the television while Percy heads for his room to change, already shrugging his blazer off. 

“Wait, here’s your blazer, Percy,” his mother starts to say, but holding it up, she sees that it’s a bit larger than Percy’s blazer and that he still has his blazer half-on.

Turning around, Percy sighs, “Oh no, that’s Luke’s. He must’ve left it here, I guess.”

He walks over to get it, and his mother asks, “Luke?”

“Yeah, he stopped by for a few minutes after school,” Percy says, nonchalantly, which does not go unnoticed by the voice in his head that hates Luke.

“Oh, how is he doing?” his mother asks, straightening up the living room a bit more with a pleasant smile on her face.

Percy leaves against the side of his doorway and says, “He’s good,” with the slightest of smiles. He hopes to any higher powers that the smile on his face was his mother’s benefit only, but he can’t say that he really believes that to be true. And what’s worse is that he knows that Luke is doing well, especially since he passed their Latin test with more than flying colors last week. 

“That’s good,” Sally replies with a smile. “When do you think he’ll be over again next. I’d love to have him over for dinner sometime soon. Luke is such a nice boy.”

Percy finds himself smirking, because if his mother only knew... He responds with a, “I’m not sure when he’s free next, but I’ll ask him.” 

When he doesn’t know if he says this to humor his mother or not, he decides that he really needs to talk to Nico. Soon. Now, preferably. “Hey, I better go call Nico though,” he says, excusing himself to his room, and once he’s comfortably out of his school uniform and sitting at his desk in shorts and a t-shirt, he leaves Nico a voicemail, saying that he’d love to do something tomorrow. 

He doesn’t mention the Luke Crisis, and yet, he spends the rest of the night getting absolutely nothing worthwhile accomplished. 

-

“The guy’s just  _obnoxious_  sometimes, and so incredibly overbearing and intrusive. He’s got no sense of boundaries  _whatsoever_ , and he has no care in the world about illegality, and I don’t know if he can possibly be a bigger nuisance than he’s already been,” Percy rants in a rather resigned manner, as if he’s already come to terms with the fact that this is who Luke seems to be. 

Nico, who had been folding the straw wrappers into small squares and unfolding them again only to refold them once more, looks up at Percy. Percy sees the boredom in Nico’s eyes and smiles sheepishly, and Nico says, “I don’t know. He talked to me that one day, and he doesn’t seem so bad. Maybe you’re just bitter.” Percy tosses one of the various straw wrappers littered their table at Nico’s face.

It bounces off of his forehead and lands on the table. Nico picks it up and tosses it back, saying, “Are you sure you’re not just mad at the kid for taking your stuff?”

Percy kicks him under the table, and says, “Trust me, Luke’s insane, and even if I was just angry with him for taking my stuff and breaking into my house  _twice_ , I would still be entirely justified in that.”

“Oh come on, Bianca said that you guys hang out all the time at school,” Nico counters, nudging his knee into Percy’s roughly. 

“Not by choice, he’s my charge, because Annabeth backed out after a day,” Percy tries to lay the blame on her, and then realizes that bringing up Annabeth might not have been the best idea. 

“Speaking of Annabeth, she’s been wondering what you’ve been up to lately. Shall I tell her that you’ve been entirely too busy being smitten by Luke and swooning over him?” Nico laughs a bit, and Percy finds himself chuckling as well. 

“You can tell her my knight in not-so-shiny armor has stolen me away,” Percy plays along, seemingly unaffected by Nico’s comments. 

“But seriously, man, you could’ve backed out of being his escort too. But you didn’t,” he reminds Percy.

“Why did I ask for your advice again?” Percy asks, smiling anyway. “You’re not helping the situation. What am I gonna do?”

“Be his friend,” Nico suggests with a shrug, and the look Percy gives Nico in response makes Nico think that his answer was not the one that Percy was looking for. He’s both apprehensive and against the idea, but part of him does consider it for a moment. 

In answer to Percy’s raised eyebrows, Nico explains himself. “Look, what’s the worst that can happen? If you ask me, you’re worse off  _not_  being his friend because who knows what he’ll do next if he’s anything like what you do described. Even if I think you’re just protesting too much. Give it a shot, and if it doesn’t work, at least you can always change the locks...?”

Percy scoffs, imagining that Luke would have no problem with getting past that. “Like that’d stop him if he really wanted in my apartment. I’d need something more like a restraining order.” He gets his wallet out and drops a few dollars on the table.

They get up from the booth, moving to the front of the diner to pay, and as Nico follows Percy, shouldering past a few strangers crowding near the register, he says, “Whatever, I still think you’re just waiting for somebody to give you permission to be his friend because frankly, if you hated him that much, you would’ve found him a new student escort, yeah?”

Shaking his head, Percy doesn’t bother to argue because if he knows Nico, he’s pretty steadfast in his opinions, even if he could use some more sunlight...

He’d rather  _not_  give that idea another thought, but Nico’s argument might hold water. It might be...true. 

Wait, no, it can’t be true. Once they’re outside, Percy moves his hands behind him to find the vacant bench so that he doesn’t mistakenly fall to the sidewalk. He sits down and drops his head in his hands, and he tells himself that he only does this so he doesn’t have to look at the masses of people cluttering the streets on this fine Saturday afternoon.

He’s not sure how long he sits there like that, but when he sees Nico’s feet toeing at cracks in the pavement, he looks up. “What am I gonna do?”

Tugging a shirt over his head, Nico’s words become a muffled jumble, but Percy strains to hear them anyway. And he wishes he hadn’t.

“Be his friend, dude. Just try.”

Percy nods, mostly to himself, stomaching the idea—or rather, the nerves. 

  
“And if that doesn’t work. Flip a coin. At least then you’ll know what you really want; I bet you that you’ll find yourself hoping for a certain answer when the coin’s in the air.” 

-

That night, Percy tries to sleep. He really does, and it’s not like him to ever be unable to sleep. He rolls over, turning his back on his window and facing his nightstand. There’s a quarter gleaming in the minimal amounts of light in his room, the blue letters of his alarm clock reflecting off of it. 

With a sigh, he swings his legs over the edge of the bed and sits up. The coin clicks against the wood of his nightstand as he drags it to the edge. 

“Tails, I do it. Heads, I don’t,” he whispers to himself. His voice is resolute. 

Closing his eyes, he thumbs the coin into the air, and it clatters to the ground, the noise muffled by the throw rug right beside his bed. Before he opens his eyes, Percy finds his stomach churning at the thought that there’s actually a fifty percent chance that the coin is actually heads up. 

But when he opens his eyes, he realizes it’s not. 

It’s tails, and well, Percy can hear Luke giving fate the credit already.

He falls asleep within three minutes.

-

On Tuesday, Percy finds himself in the quad with Annabeth after school, catching up. It’s been a long few weeks what with Luke’s shenanigans, and Annabeth and Percy haven’t had much of an opportunity to sit and talk in a while. He didn’t think that he’d miss it since sometimes things are more awkward than they need to be around Annabeth, but not today. 

He’s actually enjoying himself, soaking up the September sun and running his fingers over the rough cement of the edge of the fountain. 

There’s a short bit of silence, and Percy can tell that Annabeth has something she wants to ask. She’s nervous though, and Percy can tell by the way she bites her lip. 

“Spit it out, Annabeth,” Percy laughs. “I don’t care what it is, just say it.”

She looks up at him, “What’s going on with you and Luke?”

Percy is slightly taken aback, but he’s not entirely surprised. Annabeth looks down, sheepish already, and Percy chuckles to reassure her that it’s no big deal.

“That’s a good question, honestly. I’m not sure I know myself. Why?”

Annabeth shrugs, and Percy figures that she is just looking out for him like she always does, her curiosity and protective instinct getting the better of her. 

“Well, he talks about you all the time, and I just didn’t know if you guys were friends or what.”

Percy nods, understanding, “I guess you can say we’re friends, yeah.” And it feels weird to say that, but it’s an unwelcome weirdness. It’s almost exciting. When Annabeth doesn’t say anything, Percy continues, “But I mean, if you don’t like him or if you think there’s something up with him—”

“—No, no, that’s not it,” Annabeth says quickly. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a handful, but he’s a good guy, Percy. He really is, not that I’m trying to change your mind about him or anything like that. He might be a pain sometimes, but he apologized for changing the names of all the people in my phone.” 

Percy’s brow furrows, and he wrinkles his nose. 

“I just didn’t know if you knew that you’re all he ever talks about. Thalia swears that you’re the only thing on his mind half the time,” Annabeth chuckles, and Percy doesn’t have a coherent, concrete response to that.

-

If Percy’s being honest with himself, his “move” isn’t exactly a move. It’s kind of wishful thinking if anything. Showing up at Blockbuster alone on a Saturday night is more than he thought he’d do. 

If past experience is anything to go by, going to Blockbuster wasn’t a bad decision as far as the Luke situation is concerned. 

While Percy hoped that a certain somebody would also be at Blockbuster, it’s kind of a lame move, but it’s the most he can muster the courage and dignity to do. 

Already, he can imagine the look on Luke’s face when he lets him know that he might be maybe possible thinking about giving this friendship thing a go. And after the initial happiness, Percy’s just about positive that he’ll never hear the end of it. He can only imagine the blows to his ego and pride that Luke will all-too-gladly give out. 

At first, Percy tells himself five minutes. He’ll wait around for five minutes to see if Luke shows, and when he thinks five minutes has passed—he can’t be sure because he’s nervous and anxious and angry at himself enough to read the time on his phone properly—he tells himself that he should probably give Luke another five minutes to show, just for good measure, of course.

When five minutes becomes ten and then another five blur by, Percy’s stomach tells him that it’s probably a good time to call it quits. Before the people who work at Blockbuster think he’s homeless or worse. Ironically enough, he thinks about how they might have their suspicions about him being a thief. 

He spends the last five of those fifteen minutes in search of a specific movie, but when he can’t even pause long enough to decipher the time, there’s almost no hope that he’ll be able to find a movie in all of this chaos. There are too many people here tonight, and come to think of it, if Luke actually was there, Percy probably would miss him anyway. 

As what Percy believes to be to be minute twenty ticks by, he pushes his way to the front of the store, looking for an available employee. A girl in a blue polo approaches him and asks if he needs help, and well, does he really look that lost and pathetic and confused right now? 

Thankful anyway, he says, “Yeah, actually, I’m looking for a movie, but I don’t know if you have it or not and well, there’s a lot of people here...”

With an understanding smile, she nods, “I can look in the database to see if somebody already rented it, and if not, I’ll find it for you. What movie was it that you wanted?”

-

The walk home passes quicker than Percy expected it to, but the entire way, as he shoulders past people hurrying in the other direction, he pushes down the sinking feeling in his stomach. It feels like rejection, and he swears that his ego has been pushed down a few notches. 

It feels like being stood up, which makes no sense at all, and the rational part of Percy’s brain insists on this. 

It’s not as if he asked Luke to meet him there, it’s not like anybody knows what his real reason for going to Blockbuster is. There’s no reason to feel like he does.

And yet, he does. 

-

“Hey, mom, I’m home,” Percy shouts, hanging his coat up on the rack and dropping his keys on the end table. 

He settles down on the couch after changing his clothes and putting the DVD in the player, and his mother walks out of her room. 

“What did you rent?” his mother asks, hoping that it might be something she’d also be interested in. 

“An action movie,” he replies with a sympathetic smile. 

“Oh, well, I think I’ll go to bed then. I have to open the store tomorrow morning because somebody called off, and I couldn’t find a last minute replacement.” She leans over the back of the couch, kissing him on the cheek. “Goodnight.”

“’Night, mom,” Percy mumbles, pressing the play option. 

Two hours later, there is rain humming down on the glass windows to Percy’s left, and he’s staring tiredly at the credits rolling by on the screen. Not like he cares though; they scroll by too fast for him to translate the tangled letters. 

He feels worse than before, and when he turns and stares at the rain outside, he also starts the movie over again.

The next morning, Mrs. Jackson will wake up, get ready for work, and before leaving for her candy store, she’ll toss a blanket over Percy who fell asleep on the couch, turn off the television, take the movie out of the case and leave it in Percy’s room. 

A month later, while Percy is preoccupied with copying Luke’s psychology notes as best he can, Luke will get bored. He’ll look around Percy’s room as if he hasn’t already memorized everything there. Then his eyes will roam over the DVD rack, and they’ll stop halfway down, seeing a case for  _Gone In Sixty Seconds_ , and Luke will smile. Maybe there will be a hint of a smirk behind it, but it’ll die out when Luke turns back to Percy. It’ll be a genuine smile as he watches Percy worry his lip between his teeth and wrinkle his nose at Luke’s handwriting—which Luke always tries to make as neat as possible, just for Percy. 

So when Percy wakes up after his mother is long gone for work, he’ll stumble into his room, rubbing his eyes and ruffling his hair, and he’ll see the DVD case. Without a second thought, he’ll move it to the DVD rack before finding his cell phone to call up Grover about the math homework. 

He never returns the movie, and surprisingly, Blockbuster never calls him to tell him that it’s a late return. His mother’s credit card is never billed for the movie, and the database seems to have a small glitch because it never says that Percy still has the second copy of that movie that the Blockbuster closest to him owns. 

Percy knows what Luke would call it. He’d call it fate. And while Percy might be dangerously close to agreeing, he decides that it’s just a sign. Not fate, just a small sign that he’s headed in the right direction.

-

On Monday morning, Percy drags himself out of bed, and instead of dreading the day, he a bit anxious to see what happens. To see if he  _really_  gets the next move.

He leaves the apartment with his messenger bag on one shoulder and Luke’s blazer over the other. And maybe not a cranky and tired look on his face. It’s not a smile though, so don’t even get your hopes up.

On the steps that morning, Thalia, Zoe, and Annabeth opt to join Grover and Percy, and as Bianca joins them as well, Luke strolls up the steps. Perhaps “strolls” isn’t the best term for what Luke does though, because as Percy observes him, he notices that Luke’s long legs stretch over two steps at a time. He seems to effortlessly jump up the steps...or is he running and it just looks like he’s jumping? Percy’s thought process is cut off before he can truly analyze this by Luke plopping himself down beside Percy. 

“Good morning,” Luke offers, a chipper smile on his face. He takes another drink of his coffee or tea or whatever he drinks in the mornings—mostly French vanilla lattes, some part of Percy’s mind chips in—and Percy reaches for Luke’s blazer. 

“Morning, and here,” Percy says, offering up the jacket to Luke. 

“Oh thanks, I was gonna call you and ask if I left it at your house on Friday, but...,” Luke trails off, grabbing his blazer and putting it on after handing Percy his drink. “...I didn’t think it’d be such a good idea after, well, y’know...”

Percy chuckles understandingly and gives Luke his back his cup, “Yeah, yeah, I know. I figured that’s why you didn’t.”

And that’s the first time it happens. The very first time that they don’t need to say what they want the other person to know; the first time they don’t need words. The first time everything between them is just _understood_.

Turning back to the others, it strikes them that this doesn’t go unnoticed. Grover and Thalia have almost identical looks of “what the actual fuck was that?” while Annabeth is looking at Percy with mixed emotions, probably wondering why Luke was at Percy’s house in the first place on Friday. Of course, they’re all probably wondering that. And while Bianca pretends to pick at one of her nails and Zoe is too busy reading the back of whatever “going green” or “save the environment” book Grover is reading now, Percy isn’t fooled. They noticed too; they just have the decency to pretend that they didn’t.

Percy opens his mouth to say something, anything, to break the awkward silence, and when nothing comes out, Luke is there to bail him out. 

“So how about that pop quiz on Friday! How do you think you guys did?” Luke asks, and that’s good enough because the way Thalia rolls her eyes and blows at her bangs tells everyone that she’s gearing up to go a rampage.

Halfway through her complaint about the ambiguity of the first short answer question, Percy turns the slightest bit, just enough to face Luke. He gives Luke a grateful smile, and as he does, he thinks that maybe Luke isn’t so bad after all. 

When he’s not breaking into Percy’s apartment or taking his stuff anyway.

-

It’s Wednesday during their lunch break when a thought dawns on Percy. Grover, having excused himself to get another organic whole oat granola bar or something else that tastes equally like cardboard, leaves both Luke and Percy at their usual table. 

Luke, tipping back in his chair like is par for the course, reads through his math homework. “Hey, Perce, what did you get for number twelve because I think I messed up the derivative on part tw—”

“—Did you forget your jacket on purpose?” Percy asks, both cutting Luke off and startling him. 

Luke shakes his head and wrinkles his forehead, “Wait, what?” He quickly drops the chair to all four legs, and his math homework floats to the floor.

“On Friday, when you forgot your jacket, did you purposely leave it at my house?” Percy wonders again. There’s no bite to his words, and this surprises Luke. Judging by Percy’s face, he’s authentically curious and perhaps a tad bit confused, like he’s trying to piece together a mystery.

“No, I didn’t,” Luke insists, bending down to pick up his math homework. Once he’s sitting up again, he sees that Percy has his elbows resting on the table, his head in his hands.

“Oh. Are you sure?” he asks again, deep in thought.

“...pretty sure, yeah,” Luke says, containing a laugh but also wondering what on earth is going through Percy’s mind. 

Then Percy’s eyes refocus on Luke, and he sits back in his chair, sizing Luke up. “Really? Like you didn’t just leave it there in hopes that I’d make my move based on that?”

Luke’s face becomes more serious. Nodding, he says, “No, I didn’t leave it there on purpose, let alone for that reason. I’ve come to a decision.” Percy waits, hanging on Luke’s words. “The next move really is yours. I want to see what you can come up with So, I’ll be waiting, Perce.” Luke’s eyes divert to behind Percy before he looks back at this math homework and writes something in one of the margins of his textbook.  Grover sits down a second later, and Percy has no choice but to let the topic drop. 

Percy spends his afternoon classes making a pro-con list of being friends with Luke, and really, the con list doesn’t seem to withstand even Percy’s logic. And when he can outwit himself, he knows there’s a problem. 

He’s either half-assed this list, or he’s the world’s greatest at denial. Three guesses as to which it is. 

-

Thursday in Sociology, Percy makes up his mind. 

It involves spending his lunch in the office, pretending to have a meeting with the headmaster and finding out that Luke was right. The school really  _doesn’t_  protect their personal information very well.

He walks out of the office, black ink scribbled up most of his arm, and runs to the café before Grover and Luke can realize he’s quite late and has a black smudge on his cheek. 

Luke notices anyway. Grover shoves down two veggie wraps and a protein shake.

-

Quick frankly, this was getting quite ridiculous. Percy was so getting kicked off the swim team for this. He hasn’t been to a practice in a month, and it’s not as if he has a legitimate excuse aside from a crazed stalker-slash-parasite-slash-friend that he needs to deal with. And for some reason, Percy’s doubting that his swim coach will buy that.

Maybe he’ll call Nico up after all of this...whatever you want to call it...is said and done and ask him to come up with excuses or talk to the coach for Percy. Yeah, he better make a mental note to call Nico...

He turns up an alley, mentally kicking himself for ever thinking this was a good idea and wondering if it’s too late to turn back and run to swim practice. Checking his watch, he realizes that he probably has just enough time to sprint to the nearest subway and be at the pool in time for the warm-up laps. 

Unfortunately for him, that’s also when somebody walking in the other direction bumps into him, sending his bag to the ground along with some of its contents. In the shuffle to pick his belongings up before somebody tramples on them, Percy feels like the universe either hates him or loves Luke. By the time he has everything back in his bag and his bag back on his shoulder and he checks the time, it’s definitely too late to think about making it back in time for practice. 

And he’s already this far, his mind reasons. Luke’s apartment is somewhere on this street, and he’s got about a twenty minute window to beat Luke home from the fencing meeting. 

Just as Percy was about to chicken out of his plan last period, there was an announcement that anyone interested in knowing more about the upcoming fencing season should stay after school for a brief meeting. And seeing as Luke had just mentioned earlier that day at lunch about how anxious he was to start practices, 

Sure, Luke would chalk up the sudden opening that Percy had to let his plan play out as an act of fate, and Percy would’ve had argued that fact. Had this happened two weeks ago. Now, he’s not so sure if it is fate, but it does seem pretty damn convenient.

He looks back down at his wrist with a new determination to check once more that he’s got the right street. He does. 

Pausing for a moment, Percy goes over everything in his head, from his exit strategy to what he’s already planned to say. Not like he wrote this down last night (or attempted to) or practiced it during sociology first period (or attempted to) or anything. Except, that he did. 

Some businessman in a suit walks by, chattering on his cell phone, and all Percy can make out is, “yeah, I don’t care, whatever happens, happens. Just go for it. Take the deal.” 

So, okay, maybe it is fate. 

And, well, who is Percy to argue with that?

His last coherent thought before he sets off on his mission is something along the lines of “oh, fuck it.”

-

Twenty-three minutes later, Luke walks into his (much larger than anticipated) apartment, and is greeted by the sound of something he never really thought he’d hear.

“So, now, Luke,” Percy says, rolling Luke’s name off his tongue like he’s pondering the meaning of life theatrically. “Is that short for Lucas...or is just Luke?”

Luke turns to his right, seeing Percy lounging carelessly on one of the couches in the front formal living room. The look on Luke’s face speaks volumes more than any words, but even so, it’s not like Luke knows what to say to this.

He’s shocked but pleasantly so, and part of him is relieved because Percy’s sitting on his (hideously upholstered, floral print) couch and flipping through the pretentious book of photography that Luke’s father left on the coffee table for when he is actually home to entertain guests that Percy abandons on his lap.

“You know, you were right. The school doesn’t do much in the way of keeping our private information closely guarded,” Percy starts, and he sits up, moving his feet off the coffee table—and oh yeah, Luke’s gonna have to ask the cleaning lady to take care of that before his dad gets back from Australia later next week—and setting the shut book on the glass top there.

“And I have to say,” Percy starts again, which Luke doesn’t mind since he still is at a loss for words, “you really didn’t make this very challenging for me. I mean, really? Who still puts a spare key on top of the doorjamb any more?”

There’s a smirk playing on Percy’s lips that Luke’s willing to bet was originally his, and if he could find the proper words to make the comment sting, Luke might say something about Percy is unoriginal, stealing his smirk and his trademark party trick. 

Luke ducks his head, rubbing at his neck, and that’s when he wonders when they decided to switch roles because it’s normally him who can snark it up all he wants while still charming the hell out of everyone he comes into contact with. Except for Percy. Or, at least, so he thought.

“What are you doing here?” Luke chokes out, looking around for some kind of trap.

“Well, it was  _supposed_  to be my move, remember? But no,  _somebody_  cheated,” Percy moves his head dramatically with his words, much to Luke’s amusement.

“Guess it turns out that my charm is entirely irresistible, even you’re not immune, huh?” Luke jokes.

“Eh, think what you want.” Percy stands up, walking behind the couch and leaning on it so that’s facing Luke at not such an awkward angle. “I just really didn’t feel like going to swim practice.” 

He knows that Luke can see right through that, and yet, Luke lets him get away with such a comment. 

There’s a few moments of silence before Luke asks, “So, am I correct in assuming this is your move?”

Percy tuts, “You should never assume; you know what they say about assuming...” And when Luke tips his head down, almost glaring at Percy, he recoils a bit, tugging his face into a sheepish wince. “But, yeah, I guess this is it? Why? Where you expecting something a bit more fantastic? Fireworks, perhaps?”

He tips his head to one side, his face mocking and a bit serious at the same time. Maybe he’s starting to get nervous again because maybe this wasn’t enough of a move. But then again, he broke into Luke’s house. That’s a pretty damn bold move if there ever was one.

“Hah, no, I think this will suffice, actually, but thanks for the offer,” Luke says before Percy cuts in.

“Oh no, that wasn’t an offer. That was me saying that if you wanted fireworks, you best forget it and go find someone else’s house to break into on a regular basis.”

Ignoring Percy’s retort, Luke presses the issue, “So, you’re giving this friendship thing a shot, then?”

“I guess I am, although it does bring my sanity into question and also the fact that I am clearly not in my right min—”

Luke clamps a hand over Percy’s mouth, and says, “You could’ve just gone with the ‘I guess I am’ instead.” If the glare Percy’s shooting Luke is anything to go by, he figures he should move his hand before his fingers fall victim to that obnoxiously snarky mouth of Percy’s, or more specifically those teeth.

“Yeah, well, what can I say?” Percy rolls his eyes wearily, and with defeat in his voice, he says, “I guess nobody is immune to your charm. Because, okay, if there ever was anybody who could be immune, trust me when I say that it’d be me.” Percy holds one finger up, and Luke’s holding back a laugh at how serious Percy seems.

“And you say that I’m the annoying and arrogant one?” Luke asks, smirking again.

“Consider it your penance for the  _hell_  you put me through,” Percy mutters.

Luke shrugs, “Well, it must not’ve been that bad since here you are.”

And he’s smiling again as Percy says, “You do know that there are ways of getting to know somebody that don’t require committing felonies?”

With a mock-scoff, Luke says, “Sure, but what fun would that be?”

There’s sarcasm dripping from Percy’s voice when he says, “Right, why go for normal when you can shoot for fun?” He’s pretty sure that Luke mumbles something under his breath about overachieving, and with a raised eyebrow, Percy continues, “You’ve got a seriously skewed concept of fun, you know that?”

Luke raises an eyebrow in kind. “Yeah, but obviously, have no issues with illegality or unusual ideas of what's fun. If you did, you'd have been long gone. But you're not.”

Percy looks at the ceiling for a moment, saying, “Yeah, and higher powers help me because I’m starting to wonder if I should regret this already.”

When he looks back at Luke, his smirk lets Luke know that he was only joking, but even so, the atmosphere in the room is sharper now. It’s not too pleasant, and Percy starts a mental list of places he’d rather be. 

“So. Friendship? What exactly does that entail?” Luke asks, looking around the room, his hands awkwardly settling in his pockets. 

Percy nods his head in agreement, “Well, I was kind of hoping you knew.” 

There’s another short silence.

“Okay, oh my god, we better at being friends when we weren’t even friends!” Percy says finally, and it’s something of a relief. 

“Oh, I thought it was just me,” Luke says, smiling. 

“Seriously, if friendship with you is this mundane, then I have to say, I am severely underwhelmed, Castellan. I mean, what, no fireworks?”

“You’re a cheeky little thing, aren’t you?” Luke laughs out.

With an equally as cheeky grin, Percy says, “Always my specialty. You have thievery, I have snark. It’s what we do.” 

“So, we’re a ‘we’ now?” Luke asks, stepping back and feigning shock. “Don’t you think that’s moving a bit fast?”

“In that case...,” Percy heads for the door, only kidding in reality. Maybe Luke doesn’t notice this, or maybe he does. Either way, he steps forward, wrapping a hand around Percy’s upper arm.

“Wait, where are you going? You should stay,” Luke suggests, his face brightening up with an uncomfortable smile as he says, “We can...watch television or something, right?”

Percy looks up at him, “But my mom’s making brownies again...” And this time, Luke takes it for what it really is: an invitation. 

Both of them stepping back, Luke drops his bag on the floor and holds his arms out for Percy to take the lead. He starts out of the apartment, Luke behind him, and says, “I hope you know that I am not proud of the illegal nature of the actions I committed today.”

Luke counters, “I hope you know that I am quite proud that I was the one who took your crime virginity,” smirking as always.

Shaking his head, Percy mutters, “Typical,” and ignores Luke’s elbow that nudges him in the side.

It’s only once they’re halfway out of the building that Percy “remembers” that he forgot his bag.

Touching Luke on the arm, Percy says, “Hey, wait, I left my bag in your apartment.”

“Okay, go ahead. I mean, you already know where the spare key is. I’ll wait for you out front.”

Jogging back to Luke’s apartment, letting himself in, and ducking down beside the couch to dig through his bag, Percy finds what he is all-too-glad didn’t get broken when he dropped his bag in the street. 

Slinging the bag over his shoulder and standing up, he sets the object nicely on the glass-top table, hoping somebody will find it. 

When Luke goes home that night, maybe he’ll lean against the wall with a small smile on his face as he loosens the tie around his neck, thinking about how crazy it is that Percy finally gave in to his pressuring urges that fate wanted them to be friends. And maybe he won’t but since Percy met Luke, he’s found himself thinking about all the possibilities, as unlikely (and illegal) as they are.

In reality, it’s the cleaning lady who finds it, and assuming it’s Luke’s, she’ll leave it on his desk.

On Monday afternoon, Luke will go up to his room, stripping off the sweaty clothes he was working out in for the first fencing practice. He’ll be halfway to his shower when he’ll turn around to grab his iPod and the dock from his desk. And that’s when he’ll see it. 

A white heart-shaped shell sitting on the edge of his desk, right beside his laptop, and maybe he won’t move it for a few days. And maybe when he does move it, he sets it down in the top drawer of his nightstand where it’s less likely to be broken in the shuffle of everyday life and where Luke has to make the conscious effort to carefully take it out of the drawer to admire it peacefully.

Or maybe he just gives it back to Percy. But, no, Percy would remember that. 

He never gives it back, he keeps it. He keeps it somewhere safe. And he cherishes it.

-

It’s the fourth Saturday in a row that Percy goes to Blockbuster, and  _this_  might be the worst force of habit that’s happened because of Luke. He’s almost certain that Annabeth is about to send out the National Guard looking for him every Saturday night because it’s also the fourth party he’s missed that she has attended.

Except, it’s also the Saturday night that Luke goes to Blockbuster  _with_  Percy instead of creepily hunting him down or magically showing up seemingly from nowhere, and it’s also the Saturday night that Luke leaves with him, Chinese food in hand.

They watch part of the first season of  _Prison Break_  because Luke swore it was an awesome show and for research purposes, of course. Percy shakes his head at all of Luke’s comments, and he finds himself stealing some of Luke’s fried rice when Luke steals some of Percy’s egg roll. 

Chasing the Chinese food down with brownies, Percy thinks that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to make a move after all. It might be the craziest thing he’s done, but it might turn out to be the best. 

That thought is punctuated with Luke’s feet pushing Percy’s off the coffee table, and Percy’s revenge is in the form of brownie stealing.

Sally watches on, balancing her checkbook at the island with a smile on her face.

The whole time Luke was just waiting for Percy to stop, embrace the chaos, breathe, and enjoy the ride. And maybe, just  _maybe_  he was right, after all.

-

Somewhere along the line, Percy stops having to try to make the friendship work. After a certain point, he doesn’t preoccupy himself during class with thoughts of potential laid-back conversations he can have with Luke when he should be paying extra attention to the material on the chalkboard. He eventually stops concerning himself with how to handle himself around him: does he keep up his snarky demeanor or does he let it slide every so often because friends are obviously comfortable enough around each other to just  _be_?

Percy no longer cares about what Luke will think, not that he’s a particularly shallow person or that Luke is judgmental, but the anxiety of trying to  _make_  a friendship work slowly slips out of Percy’s grasp.

Although it’s the not the eventual progression to real friendship that almost unnerves Percy; it’s the ease of it all, the way it takes almost no time at all, like they don’t even need to try to be friends in all reality. It just happens. It almost scares him. Almost. 

Becoming friends with Luke, at some point, stopped being about the effort Percy put forth to placate him, and it just became about spending time with him. Of course, the lack of a need to really  _try_  is relieving. Not that Percy wouldn’t put forth effort if it came down to that; it’s just that, with Luke, he doesn’t need to try. And that’s what makes what would be a good friendship an even better one.

It just works. They fall into sync with one another with a kind of practiced effortlessness.

There’s nothing particularly slow about it, either. It’s just a whirlwind of strings of moments that tie together and connect themselves until a real bond forms between them: a long, knotted rope like those nautical ropes that can weather any storm, withstand any pull of the tides. And it pulls them together and holds them there, side by side, and there they remain.

Nothing feels forced: Luke feigns no smiles, and Percy’s laughs are nothing if not genuine. Every milestone, shall they say, happens of its own accord, and when they do occur, no ripples float across the water’s surface.

At some point, it’s entirely acceptable for Luke to ask, “What are we doing this weekend?” instead of asking Percy what his plans for the weekend are before implying they will be hanging out. It’s simply understood after some time. 

A similar situation happens in almost every aspect of the friendship process. When Percy begins to steal Luke’s food right from off of his plate without asking or when Luke decides that Percy won’t mind if he just stays the night at his apartment and borrows his clothes and shares the bed, neither of them even blink. There are no double-takes, no confused eyebrow raises, no awkward pauses filled with uneasy silence. 

They never miss a beat. 

Before long, it’s no longer Percy, it’s no longer Luke. Just like everything else in the steady progression that is the two of them, they cannot pinpoint the exact time that they became Luke’n’Percy, but—again—just like everything else, it’s not a big deal. It’s nothing to lose sleep over. 

It simply happens, and they take it in stride. It almost evades Percy entirely that he truly enjoys Luke’s company, that he actually  _is_  Luke’s friend, that they’ve made it farther than either of them could’ve imagined. 

They downward spiral until it’s all a haze and the times when they moved up from unsure lingering after class for the other to waiting at the other’s locker after school are only one more step in the past few months that begin to blur together. 

It happens quietly, under the radar, outside of the line of sight, just beneath the surface. Everything is impossible to define, impossible to detail exactly how, when, and why something happened. They only know that it  _did_  happen, and eventually, that’s all that matters.

All that matters now are the shoulder bumps and the inside jokes and the shared glances from across crowded rooms and the small traditions that weave into their very beings until it’s practically instinct that Luke swings by the coffee shop on the corner of Percy’s street in the mornings. 

It’s the lack of personal space, the way Luke can detect Percy’s moods better than himself, the way Percy can just  _know_  that Luke’s itching to steal something, the way he learns that Luke will always return whatever he stole from Percy—all it takes is patience and time—and the way people don’t even consider separating them or assume that one of them would do anything without the other. 

Luke learns Percy’s usual lunch order for every day of the week; he studies with Percy before every test; he pays specific attention in the classes that Percy struggles with the most so that he can help him with the notes later. 

Percy picks up on Luke’s subtle and thieving quirks; he learns how to keep up with an overly enthusiastic kleptomaniac; he rolls his eyes but takes it in stride when Luke gets the two of them into trouble, which happens with alarming frequency on occasion. What can he say? Some weeks are better than others. 

Sharing worms its way into their daily routines. Seats, food, books, personal space, beds, thoughts, clothes. Everything was shared and comfortable. There comes a time when there is no distinction between what is Luke’s and what is Percy’s, and while they are different sizes in clothes, sometimes they don’t remember who bought what hoodie or if they bought it for the other person anyway.

They fit together, and it’s  _easy_. Almost as if Fate had a personal, vested interest in the matter. 

Percy couldn’t help but be the slightest bit skeptical about fate and all that jazz whenever Luke mentioned it, but sometimes, the idea that maybe it happened for a reason sneaks up on him and pounces. Denying the ease of it all would be futile. 

Maybe it  _was_  fate. 

Maybe it was Luke and his damn persistence. (“It’s not fate if you’re fighting it,” Percy always argues playfully.)

Or maybe it was just some kind of miracle, some kind of fairytale. (So maybe this story should start with a “Once upon a time” and end with “happily ever after,” and well, it really kind of does, anyway.)

All Percy knows is that, as unexpected as it was, it’s not something he would change, ever given the chance to do so. 

And he’s pretty damn sure that Luke wouldn’t let him either.


End file.
